


The Box With Something Special

by Mystic_Whim



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 13:17:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 45,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13272225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystic_Whim/pseuds/Mystic_Whim
Summary: Starsky and Hutch run into an old college friend of Hutch's.Published in the slash anthology zine, Dangerous Lives Dangerous Visions 3, published by Flamingo.Dangerous Lives Dangerous Visions 3 was nominated for 2005 Huggy Award, Best Zine.





	The Box With Something Special

 

 

****

 

 

_Spring, 1988_

Starsky glanced around the ultra modern interior of the nightclub. The architecture and décor reflected the colorful art deco flair that had become popular with the Miami Vice influence of the past few years. It looked chic, and upscale. He looked at Hutch with raised eyebrows, wondering what his buddy's reaction was. The unenthusiastic expression on his companion's face was almost laughable.

"Um, Starsk," Hutch muttered in Starsky's direction, "don't you think this place looks a little out of our league?" He cast a weary eye around the bar. "I can feel my wallet getting lighter by the minute." Returning his gaze to the entrance, he added, "I'm surprised there wasn't a cover charge. I don't think we can afford this."

Starsky's grin broadened as a beautiful redhead slinked past him, letting an interested eye rake him up and down. She strolled on with a look back, as if to be sure he was watching her walk away. "Yeah, but just look at the class of girls in this joint," he replied absently, his eyes never leaving the girl. "You know, I think she likes me, Hutch! Did you see the way she stared at me?"

Hutch frowned. "She's probably wondering why you didn't use the employee entrance like the rest of the janitorial staff."

"I think she's got a friend!" Starsky stated excitedly, jabbing at Hutch subtly with his elbow. "She's blonde, buddy."

"We haven't got a chance, pal," he shook his head. "Not unless they're slumming. Besides, they're probably with those two suits behind them."

"I don't see any rings," Starsky observed. "All's fair."

"You want to explain that to the weightlifter in the double breasted suit? He just handed your redhead a margarita."

"Check out the curls, two-o'clock."

"And check out the jewelry on that girl, will you Starsk? She could finance a lunar launch with that bracelet alone. Let's just find Madison and have the obligatory drink. Then let's get the hell out of here while we still have enough in our wallets to afford the gas home."

Starsky squinted as he scanned the patrons. "Hey, is that Perez in the blue, by the cigarette machine?" He flagged down a waitress and ordered their beers.

"Perez from Vice?"

"No, Miguel Perez, the owner of the taco joint by my house. You know, the guy who gives me free enchiladas?"

"I swear, Starsk," Hutch mumbled, "you always manage to know someone, no matter where we go. Hey, you do realize that he's probably down here drinking on the hard earned cash you waste on those belly bombs?"

A man whirled around at the sound of his voice. "Ken? Ken Hutchinson?"

Hutch looked at the man who had called his name, and the shock instantly registered on his face. "Trevor?"

Starsky glanced at the stranger with curiosity. The man did not look familiar, but by Hutch's reaction, he knew it was someone of importance to him, likely an old friend from the past. Both seemed uncertain whether to hug or shake hands, but settled on an awkward embrace followed by a warm clap on the back.

Perhaps a few years older, Trevor had very long, straight black hair, pulled back in a ponytail **,** a slight sparkling of silver just beginning to tinge the temples. Thick lashes framed his laughing eyes, and deep dimples framed his broad and friendly smile. He was a strikingly handsome man, dressed in expensively understated clothing. Trevor moved with the grace and confidence of a wealthy upbringing. He had an aura of power, gentled with compassion, steeped in benevolence.

Hutch seemed slightly nervous in his presence, though Starsky sensed it more than witnessed any evidence of it. He simply couldn't dismiss a distinct feeling of unease that emanated from his best friend, despite the calm and collected demeanor he demonstrated.

Both men babbled their I-haven't-seen-you-in-years-how've-you-been greetings, as Starsky watched on in puzzled amusement. There was a very slight hint of an accent in Trevor's voice. Expecting to hear a Midwestern accent, believing Trevor to be from Hutch's well-to-do hometown of Duluth, he was surprised to realize it was a New England twang, probably Connecticut. More refined than his own native New York inflection, yet subtler than the recognizable Boston pronunciation. It was hard to pinpoint, since he had evidently either lost most of the accent over time, or purposefully tried to suppress it.

The waitress appeared, delivering the two beers. She smiled politely at Starsky, stating, "That will be fourteen dollars." Starsky winced inwardly.

Hutch immediately pulled out his wallet, but Trevor laid a hand on his arm. Speaking to the waitress he said, "Your name is Melissa, isn't that right? Melissa, put all their drinks on my tab, please."

"Yes of course, Mr. Prescott!" she replied enthusiastically, "I'll include them with your party." As Starsky watched her scurry off, he suspected that most people responded to Trevor that way, putting forth additional effort to win his approval. The man seemed to inspire diligence with nothing more than an expectant look

Finally Trevor turned his full attention to Starsky. "I'm terribly sorry for intruding on your evening," he spoke graciously. "It was such a shock to see Ken after all these years."

"No problem; you aren't intruding. Where'd you two meet?" Starsky inquired.

"College," Hutch answered. "I met Trevor not long after you went into the service."

Starsky nodded, remembering his brief term at the USC in Bay City. His grades were less than ideal, so he had taken a few summer courses at his high school guidance counselor's suggestion. Hutch had come to summer school in hopes of graduating sooner by taking courses all year long, and had been assigned as Starsky's roommate in the dorm. They became close friends right off the bat, and were inseparable during the summer and fall semester. Unfortunately, Starsky had been unable to keep his grades up, and he found himself drafted shortly after finishing the fall term. It was a fun and innocent time for them both before he left for Nam, a time that Starsky particularly cherished. It seemed all the sweeter, when compared to the bloodshed and raw fear that followed overseas.

"Oh, college," Starsky smiled fondly. They had been barely eighteen when they both set foot on campus soil. Starsky, fresh from living in the shelter of his aunt and uncle's house, Hutch fresh from Minnesota, eager to jump into USCBC's excellent pre-law curriculum. "Yeah, it was fun while it lasted." He grinned at Hutch, who returned it with a smile of his own. It had been his strong friendship with Hutch that had kept Starsky from losing hope when he was off to war, and helped him pull himself together when he returned. Starsky mentally pushed down the dark memories. "Did I meet you when I came back?"

"No, I graduated the following year," Trevor replied, "and took a job in Seattle. This is my first long term visit back to Bay City."

"How's the job going?" Hutch asked. Turning to Starsky, he explained, "Trevor runs KXTN, the Christian television network. You know the one, with Steve Jacobson."

"Oh yeah," Starsky recalled. "Jacobson is supposedly one of the only televangelists that lives up to his image. He's never been nailed with any of the immoral dirt like the others. Supposed to be squeaky clean."

Hutch cringed. "Starsky, ‘televangelist' is kind of a derogatory term." He looked apologetically at Trevor.

"No, it's okay," Trevor smiled. "We even use that term at the network. We don't take offense at it. After all, being labeled as ‘the only moral televangelist' has been a financial blessing to our business. It sent our ratings through the roof. You just can't beat that kind of advertising."

"What brings you back to Bay City?" Starsky asked.

Trevor studied Starsky momentarily. "I thought it was time for a change," he replied vaguely. "I miss Bay City, and was considering settling here. Part of my purpose for this trip is to explore employment opportunities. I've had some promising responses to my inquiries, and I'm considering my options."

Trevor and Hutch's eyes met, and a silent communication passed between them. Starsky witnessed the exchange, feeling very uncomfortable at being excluded. "Speaking of work," he began, interrupting their meaningful glance, "I promised a co-worker I'd pop in here tonight to toast his engagement. I'm gonna just take a look around and see if I can find him, if you guys don't mind."

"Wait, Starsk," Hutch clasped his shoulder. "We both should go. I promised Madison I'd come too." He looked back at Trevor, obviously torn between his obligation and his old friend.

"Don't let me keep you from your friends," Trevor insisted. "Give me your number, Ken, and I'll give you a call in the morning." He glanced over his shoulder at a large gathering close by. "I'm here with some friends and business associates as well, putting out feelers, so to speak. Why don't we plan on getting together tomorrow, and we can both devote our full attention to catching up on old times?"

Hutch smiled. "Sounds good." He took out one of their business cards and offered it, taking Trevor's offered card as well, with his hotel phone number written on the back. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Trevor paused a moment, and smiled. "I'm really glad I ran into you tonight. It's been great seeing you again!"

Hutch watched Trevor return to his friends, lost in thought. Starsky gave him a sharp nudge, snapping his friend back to their task at hand.

"Come on," Hutch suggested to Starsky. "Let's find Madison, buy him that drink, and get the hell out of here. This place is too rich for my blood."

"Why the rush?" Starsky grinned. "Drinks are on Trevor, remember? From what I've read about KXTN, that guy's probably got money to burn."

"That's true," Hutch sighed. "He's wealthy all right. But I don't want to take advantage of his generosity. It wouldn't be right."

Starsky eyed Hutch, suspecting there was something more going on, but Hutch appeared closed off. He dropped the subject, finally spotting Madison and his wife-to-be at a corner table.

 

~*~

 

Starsky cradled the phone as he shuffled the file folders on his desk into some kind of haphazard order. "Okay, Hug, yeah. Eight sounds better. Oh yeah? How big? Oooooh, sounds terrific. Count me in. No, he's not coming. Got plans. Some old college buddy's in town. Yep. That's okay, I'll take his. Ha! You got it Huggy. See ya then."

Hutch walked up and sat on the edge of the desk, ready to check out for the day. "What are you taking of mine?"

Smiling, Starsky rubbed his hands together. "Huggy's got this new bellybuster steak on the menu, and he's cookin' some up tonight. Twenty-one ounces! My mouth's watering just thinking about it."

"Actually, I think I will join you tonight. But you can still have my steak. I'm more in the mood for his Friday fish fry."

"What happened? Your plans fall through?" Starsky asked. "I thought you were getting together with your Bible-thumpin' buddy."

Hutch smiled. "Trevor's not a Bible-thumper, Starsk. He's a business man, and a damn good one, from what I hear."

"Weren't you going to wax nostalgic tonight?"

"I thought so, but he never called," Hutch shrugged. "I tried to call the hotel number he gave me, but he wasn't in. I guess something came up."

"Let's hit Huggy's then," Starsky announced, jumping from the chair and snagging his jacket off the back in one smooth move. "That steak's calling my name. Or is it mooing my name?"

"You keep eating like that and it'll be a cardiologist calling your name," Hutch muttered as they left the squad room.

 

~*~

 

Huggy was tending to a lively Friday night crowd, keeping his full staff of cooks, bartenders and waitresses hopping. He was dragging, and even his clothing reflected his strain. The long magenta and blue feathers that usually draped from his wide-brimmed hat in a delicate arc were now drooping in a wilted fashion after the busy happy hour. When his two detective friends entered, though, he pulled away to serve them personally, straightening his sequined vest as if preparing to confront royalty. "Hutch, glad you decided to grace us with your presence after all. What can I get for you? Will you be trying my delectable new steak? I'm getting rave reviews from the peanut gallery," he bragged, nodding at the young crowd at the opposite end of the bar. "You game?" He slapped two icy beers on the bar.

"No thanks, Huggy," Hutch shook his head. "I'll stick with the fish fry. Starsky here wants to give it a go. He's been drooling since you told him about it."

"Fried cod with fresh lemons for you and a bellybuster steak for your bottomless friend," Huggy murmured as he wrote the order on a ticket. "How you want that, Starsky?"

"Rare, Huggy. You know how I like it," Starsky grinned.

"One moo steak coming up," Huggy tapped the ticket pad on the bar and disappeared in the back.

An hour later they had both cleaned their plates and sat with their backs to Huggy, leaning against the bar, feeling full and happy. Starsky looked at Hutch with a sly grin and nodded in the direction of the young crowd that had been seated at the opposite end of the bar, and who now occupied the pool table. "You know Huggy's peanut gallery fancies themselves to be pool players."

"I can see that," Hutch nodded back with a false innocence. "It's occurred to me that a couple of seasoned players such as ourselves could teach those young pups a thing or two about the game."

"Yes, I believe we could," Starsky's grin broadened. "We'd be doing them a favor."

"And we might help them lighten their wallets while we're at it." Hutch eyed them critically.

"You up for it?"

"Let's do it."

The two men sauntered over to the table and placed a quarter on the rail to challenge the current players. In the first few games, they played far below their own capabilities, fueling the egos and greed of the cocky young players. They soon found themselves embroiled in game after game with the brash youths, winning back their initial losses and then considerably more.

"Lucky game," one of the youngsters sneered to the pair.

Starsky smiled broadly, his confident swagger egging on the younger men. "If you think it's just luck, you're welcome to try again."

Unwilling to concede that the older pair were the superior players, the younger men slapped their bet money on the table, and another game was on.

"Maybe we should take pity on them," Hutch quietly mentioned to Starsky.

Huggy had overheard the suggestion and huffed. "Those peanuts don't know the meaning of the word pity, Hutch. Take ‘em for all they're worth. Do it for me, will ya? I'm enjoying seeing them knocked down a peg or two for a change." After encouraging Starsky and Hutch on, he returned to the other end of the bar to wait on a new customer walking in the door.

"Good evening!" he greeted the handsome man. "What can I do you for?"

Trevor smiled. "Good evening. I'm Trevor Prescott, and I am looking for someone. I was told he might be here. Do you know Ken Hutchinson?"

"Hutch?" Huggy asked. "I surely do! You'll find him at the other end of the bar, teaching a bunch of kiddies the fine art of hustling pool."

Trevor laughed. "And to think I taught him how to play that game."

"Is that so?" Huggy mused. "I hope you're around the next time they ask me to play. I could use a bit of help to keep from losing my shirt."

Shaking his head, Trevor advised, "I'm afraid I wouldn't be much help to you, sir. I don't gamble. Are you a friend of Ken's?"

Huggy inspected the man doubtfully. Not a gambler? Trevor wore a simple pair of Levis and a plain white t-shirt, but something about his manner hinted that he was a man who was accustomed to taking risks. He seemed honest and sincere enough, but there was something below the surface that he couldn't yet discern. "Yeah, Hutch and I go way back. Huggy Bear's the name. I'm the proprietor of this here establishment." He returned Trevor's firm handshake. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Yes, Huggy Bear, thank you. A beer, please." He placed a crisp fifty-dollar bill on the bar.

"You got it," Huggy exclaimed as he placed a bottle on the bar. This man couldn't be a regular beer drinker; he hadn't even specified his brand to a bartender who couldn't possibly know ‘his usual.' Because he was here to see Hutch, he gave him the same brand. "This one's on me," Huggy stated, slipping the bill back to the man. "Any friend of Hutch's is a friend of mine."

Trevor nodded his thanks to Huggy, then proceeded on to greet Hutch.

_Complicated,_ Huggy thought. He knew there was more to Trevor Prescott than met the eye, but he liked him. There was just something about the man, something refreshing.

 

~*~

 

Trevor stood back at a position where he could observe the group playing pool unnoticed. He smiled as he watched Hutch for a few minutes, taking in the many changes in his old companion. He was older, more mature, but age had done little more than refine his golden good looks. It surprised him to see the intense look that crossed Hutch's face as he played, a look that he had never witnessed in their youth. There was a hardness about him, a toughness that Trevor assumed had been the result of his years as a police officer. But when Starsky leaned close and whispered something to Hutch, his responding laughter and his smile was so reminiscent of the idealistic young man that Trevor remembered, it gave him pause. The years seemed to dissipate right before his eyes.

It still amazed Trevor that he could run into his old friend so unexpectedly. It was so good to see him again. Had he realized that Hutch was still in Bay City, he probably would have sought him out sooner. They always had such a comfortable relationship with each other, and it thrilled him to have the opportunity to become reacquainted with him. He wondered if Hutch would be interested in seeing more of him as well, should he go through with his plans of permanently returning to town.

The flamboyantly dressed bartender moved in his direction, motivating Trevor to take the steps to join the men playing pool. He walked up beside Hutch and asked, "So, are you winning, Ken?"

"Trevor!" Hutch said in surprise. "How'd you find me?"

"I called Metro," he explained. "Some charming woman named Minnie told me I could probably find you here. She said it was your usual hang out on a Friday night."

Starsky swaggered up and leaned against Hutch. In a conspiratorial voice, he declared, "Betcha ten bucks he scratches on that shot." Then he noticed Trevor on Hutch's other side and called, "Hiya Trevor! How ya doing?"

"Don't take that bet, Ken," Trevor advised. "He will scratch."

"Sorry Starsk," Hutch chalked his stick. "No bet."

Starsky looked over at Trevor and chuckled, "Spoil sport," just as the young man at the table sent the cue ball into the pocket.

Hutch cleaned up the table and collected their winnings, causing the peanut gallery to finally give up the game. Starsky and Hutch found themselves with no more willing players to go up against their skill.

"I'll join you in a game," Huggy quickly offered. "Trevor, will you partner with me against these two yahoos? No gambling, of course. Just a friendly game."

"I'd be happy to," Trevor smiled, taking a cue stick from the wall. "Rack them up, Mr. Bear."

"Actually, it's Mr. Brown. Huggy Bear Brown. But most folk just call me Huggy."

The game proceeded as a fairly close match. At one point, Trevor heard Huggy ask Starsky, "Want to make it interesting, Starsky? What say we make a side bet, just you and me. Double or nothing on your tab."

"You're on," Starsky jumped at the chance. "But I thought you were the one who didn't want to play for money. Why the change of heart?"

"Oh, my partner's not a betting man," Huggy replied. "But you know I always enjoy a good wager." Trevor laughed to himself, knowing Huggy was trying to set his buddy up.

Trevor did play extremely well. In fact, he and Huggy would have blown Starsky and Hutch out of the water, had Huggy not accidentally tipped the eight ball in during a particularly difficult shot. The four continued to play more pool, as Starsky cheerfully bought the rounds of beer, now that his tab had been wiped clean.

Later in the evening, Trevor was watching Hutch make a careful shot. Starsky came up beside him and exclaimed, "Hey, Huggy tells me you're the one who taught Hutch how to play this game. Is that true?"

Trevor smiled. "Yes, back in college. He didn't require much teaching, though. He was already pretty skilled. He just needed someone to help him focus those skills." He leaned back against the wall, feeling the early effects of too much beer.

Starsky handed him another beer, and they laughed about some of the disasters Hutch experienced as he was learning to play. Trevor enjoyed the reminiscing, and even enjoyed the pained look that crossed Hutch's face as he related some particularly embarrassing moments. Starsky was eager to hear about the old days, and kept his drinks coming in an effort to allow the stories to flow just as freely as the brew. Trevor tried to keep up with Starsky's drinking, but soon realized he was out of his league. He was not used to beer, let alone the quantities these men were capable of consuming, and regretted his foolish attempt to keep pace. He made a mental note to slow it down.

The peanut gallery was still nearby, and one of the group came over to challenge the table again. As he lay the coin on the bar rail, Trevor noticed an unusual tattoo on the man's right hand. He stared at the unique design that spread from the tip of the man's forefinger down to the tip of his thumb. The swirling design fanned out from the inside part of his hand between the two digits in a colorful pattern. Trevor wondered why someone would tattoo such an odd location, instead of someplace more common and more prominent. Just as his thoughts contemplated this curiosity, the man held his pool cue in his hand, and stroked up the wooden shaft. Suddenly Trevor realized that his hand, circled around the stick, now ringed the wood with his eye-catching tattoo in a circular frame. As he watched in fascination, the man gestured his hand up and down on the cue stick in a motion very familiar to men. Trevor's eyes widened and he looked up to find the tattooed man leering at him as he stroked his hand up and down the wooden stick in a very suggestive manner. Trevor boldly met the man's stare with his own, his eyes flashing a warning in the man's direction.

At just that moment, Starsky appeared at Trevor's side and leaned into him, draping his arm over Trevor's shoulder in a companionable stance. Trying to coax him into teaming up to play against Hutch and Huggy, Starsky was just shy of hanging on him. Trevor noticed with amusement that the tattooed man turned away dejectedly and rejoined his companions. He wondered if Starsky had acted purposefully as he looked around the bar with new eyes.

Noting how the tattooed man related to his fellow teammates, and hearing their quiet but revealing dialog, Trevor could see that at least two of the group were gay. It occurred to him that Huggy's odd choice of clothing did reflect a rather whimsical, and perhaps effeminate, style. The men certainly outnumbered the women as patrons. Had it not been for the scattered couples that were in attendance, and the few apparently single women, this bar could possibly be a gay bar, or at least relatively tolerant of a gay presence.

His musings were redirected as Starsky pulled him to the bar in an attempt to buy him a shot. Trevor adamantly refused to accept the offer, and pacified Starsky's hospitality by instead accepting another beer. Somehow Starsky had convinced Hutch and Huggy to play another game of pool, even though Hutch had laughingly protested playing while Trevor and Starsky were ganging up on him with tales of his younger days.

Trevor promised, along with a repentant Starsky, to ease up on Hutch, though they both fell into a fit of giggles when Starsky mischievously mentioned the crew cut that Hutch used to wear when they first met. Even Hutch finally laughed about the unflattering hairstyle. "I grew it out right away!" he defended to the group.

Starsky's eyes twinkled. "He looked like a peach with all that blond fuzz standing up on top." Trevor tried to hold in another laugh but it bubbled forth uncontrolled. Starsky had thrown his arm around Trevor's shoulder, and every time Trevor laughed, Starsky laughed harder.

"You should talk," Hutch pointed a finger at Starsky. "How long did it take you to wash all that Brylcreem out of your hair, Valentino? Didn't anyone ever tell you _a little dab will do ya?"_

Starsky snorted, "At least I _had_ hair. I think you had more hair on your balls than you had on your head."

"You better watch it Starsk. I could have a lot of fun comparing _your_ curly hair to the hair on your balls."

"All right, all right," Starsky laughed, hands raised in surrender. "Uncle."

Trevor listened to their quick banter with great amusement. He wanted to join in, but the late hour and long day were catching up with him, so he instead resigned himself to being their audience. He was relieved when Hutch and Huggy beat him and Starsky at pool so he could relax for a while and watch the others play the challengers to the table. Starsky joined him as they leaned against the wall near the bar.

"We shoulda had that game," Starsky complained. "We make a good team." He nudged Trevor's arm to emphasize his point.

Trevor smiled. He hadn't expected to get along so well with Hutch's friend. It occurred to him that it probably shouldn't have been a surprise, for they did seem to have quite a bit in common, including the fact that both their New England accents seem to creep back into their speech after a fair amount of beer. He mentioned it to Starsky and the man smiled broadly.

"Can't hide what you're made of," he chuckled, hoisting his beer bottle in a salute before raising it to his lips. Trevor smiled ironically at the statement, but lifted his bottle just the same, doubting the truth of his words.

They both fell into a comfortable silence, watching Hutch make shot after shot. He stopped directly in front of Starsky and Trevor, and bent over the table to line up one more. Trevor sighed wistfully. As Starsky turned to reach for his drink on the bar, Trevor murmured in a quiet voice, "What I wouldn't give to fuck that sweet, sweet ass."

Trevor mistakenly believed he had only _thought_ the comment, instead of speaking it aloud, until he saw Starsky's head suddenly whip around. Too late, he realized his folly. The enraged expression on the other man's face was the only warning Trevor had to the painful punch that sent him crashing to the floor.

 

~*~

 

An unexpected fury raged through Starsky, as he lashed out with his fist and connected with Trevor's jaw. The man sprawled across the tile floor; the blow taking him completely by surprise.

He stood over Trevor, his hands clenched into fists, his jaw flexing with anger. Through the red haze, he could hear Hutch shout, "Starsky! What the hell are you doing?"

Trevor held up a hand to halt Hutch, and quickly pulled himself from the floor, rubbing his pained jaw. "Don't blame Starsky, Ken. It was me. I was out of line."

Starsky wanted to respond _damn right you were outta line_ , but he kept his mouth shut, not trusting himself to speak just yet. Huggy appeared with a scoop of ice wrapped in a bar towel, and pressed it into Trevor's hand, who in turn pressed it to his jaw.

"I'm sorry, Starsky," Trevor was contrite. "I've had too much to drink." He turned to Hutch. "I'm sorry, Ken. Please forgive me. I'm going back to the hotel and sleep this off." Before anyone had a chance to say much else, he was gone.

Hutch once again confronted Starsky. "Trevor is an old friend of mine, and a hell of a nice guy! You want to explain to me why you saw fit to punch his lights out?"

"Hutch!" Starsky yelled, warning the other not to push him. "I had my reasons," he ground out.

In response, Hutch handed his cue stick to Huggy and stated, "We're leaving." He grabbed Starsky by the upper arm and roughly guided him to the door.

Once in the alley, Starsky wrenched his arm out of Hutch's grip and jammed his fists into his jacket pockets.

Hutch stopped and put his hands on his hips. "You want to tell me what the hell is going on? I've known Trevor Prescott for years-"

Starsky interrupted, "Yeah, well did you know he was gay?"

Hutch froze for a moment, alarm and anger both visible in his eyes.

"Of course I knew he was gay!" he blurted. He quickly looked away, and Starsky watched as Hutch struggled with his emotions. Hutch raised his hands away from his body slightly, palm out as if in entreaty, then let them drop helplessly back to his sides. He turned away from Starsky, running a furious hand through his hair.

"What's going on here, huh? What am I missing?"

Hutch turned on him with blazing eyes. "Why did you hit him? What, _exactly,_ made you so pissed that you had to knock him on his ass?"

Starsky narrowed his eyes. "You know damn well I didn't hit him without good reason! Even Trevor told you he was outta line. What are ya so pissed at me for?"

Starsky watched Hutch pull himself up to his full height. In a tight controlled voice, Hutch asked, "Did you hit him because he was gay?"

"What? I told you - hell, _Trevor_ told you! He said something obnoxious, and it pissed me off. Yeah, I hit him, but he had it comin'!"

"Oh that's just great," Hutch blurted, then looked down and squeezed the bridge of his nose as if irritated. "Just fucking great." He raised his head and quipped, "And this had nothing to do with the fact that he's gay."

Starsky resented the sarcasm that dripped from Hutch's words. "You wanna tell me what's going on?"

"You wouldn't understand," Hutch ground out.

His anger verged on exploding as he stared at Hutch. "Then explain it to me! Explain to me why this guy is so fucking important that you take his side even when he admits he was the one in the wrong. Explain to me why he fucks up and you're ready to take my head off. Explain to me -"

"We were lovers, goddamn it!"

Starsky stood stunned. "What?"

"You heard me."

Starsky just blinked at Hutch. He chuckled. "Geez, you had me going there for a sec," he began, but stopped short when Hutch's expression remained fixed. "You can't be serious. That's impossible!"

"What's impossible, Starsky? That I could have had a relationship with a man? Or that I could have kept it from you?"

"But you're not gay!" Starsky blurted out, confusion frustrating his thoughts.

"Why, because I like women? I've got news for you, buddy. Yes, I'm attracted to women, but I'm attracted to Trevor, too. In fact, our relationship was probably the most emotionally and physically satisfying relationship I've ever known. If you need to slap a label on that and call it gay, or bi-sexual, or whatever you damn well please, then you go right ahead. All I know is I feel desire, just like you. And I love, just like you. I just don't happen to care what wrapper that person has. I loved Trevor for who he is, not for what body parts he had on the outside. You think you can deal with that, partner? Or are you going to deck me like you did Trevor?"

"Deck you? Shit, Hutch! Is that what you think?"

"Why wouldn't I think that? I just found my ex lover on the floor, thanks to your understanding nature. Don't forget your unconditional acceptance when you found out about John Blaine. Yeah, I have a lot of reason to believe you'd take this well. You're just the picture of compassion and tolerance."

Indignant, Starsky gritted his teeth. "That ain't fair."

"Isn't it? Why shouldn't I feel that way? Have you ever given me reason to believe I could be open about this?"

Starsky turned away, hurt. The past flooded back to him, remembering John's death and his own response to the truths his death revealed. John's death involved creeping around to sleazy hotels, meeting with gay prostitutes, betrayal, adultery and scandal. The news about his friend's homosexuality had been a shock, and learning how he lived had been disturbing. The one person Starsky had confided in at that time, the person he admitted his repulsion, his discomfort, and his confusion to, had been Hutch. Starsky's stomach clenched at how Hutch must have felt, listening to him confess his repugnance, and believing that all Starsky's words could in turn be said about himself.

But that time with John had been his first exposure to homosexuality, and his reactions had been immature, and based on emotion. His hoped his opinions on the topic were no longer as sophomoric, nor his prejudice so biting.

"No, you're right. I've never given you reason to think you could talk to me about this," Starsky admitted bitterly. "But there's nothing you could say that would make me think less of you, or care less about you. I've been your best friend all these years, and stood by you no matter what. I woulda thought that'd count for something."

Two men walked past the entrance to the alley, both arguing heatedly. The noise and awareness of others within earshot left Starsky and Hutch both silent and self-conscious. While waiting for the arguing strangers to disappear off into the night, Starsky felt all his anger dissolve, leaving only the confusion and frustration behind.

"Hutch, you think we could talk about this at your place?" he asked softly.

Hutch nodded and they walked silently to their car. Starsky sensed his friend's anger, though it didn't seem to have the intensity it did earlier. He also seemed distracted, and rather unsettled.

The drive to Venice Place was quiet. Starsky glanced over at Hutch, and asked, "Was it serious? Between you two?"

Hutch caught his eye. "Yeah. I loved him. I believed he loved me too."

"Is that why he's here?"

Hutch was thoughtful for a moment. "I don't know."

"I'm sorry I hit him, Hutch."

He acknowledged the statement with a nod. "What did he say to piss you off like that?"

Starsky squinted out the window and sighed deeply. "He said ‘what I wouldn't give to fuck that sweet sweet ass.'" He frowned. "When I first heard it, I thought it was crude and he was just being an asshole or something. But now that I know there's a history there, I think maybe he meant it as sort of...I don't know... _with regret_." He looked at Hutch and said apologetically, "Perspective kinda changes things."

There was a ghost of pain that flashed in Hutch's eyes, then he turned away and looked out the passenger window. "Yeah, well, he made his choice," he said softly.

The car came to a stop in front of Hutch's building and the two men looked at each other. Neither set of eyes held the heat of anger any longer.

"You still want to talk?" Starsky asked.

Hutch gave a quick nod. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions. Besides, I might as well get this out in the open. Keeping it private hasn't done either of us any good."

Once in the apartment, Hutch pulled two beers from the refrigerator and sat down on the couch, Starsky beside him. Starsky waited for him to speak, but he seemed too lost in thought, or too lost in the past, to find a way to begin.

"What happened with Trevor, Hutch?" he encouraged.

 

~*~

 

_1965_

Hutch entered the party and scanned the faces looking for his friends from the dorm. No one looked familiar, though he thought the smiling girl behind the bar might have been in his Psych 101 class, he wasn't sure. He frowned. Starsky had left for boot camp nearly two weeks ago, and he was bored without his friend. Feeling guilty, he mentally kicked himself. Surely Starsky was in a worse situation. But the thought of his friend going off to fight in Nam was not something he wanted to spend time contemplating. He headed for the bar, and the gal from his Psych class.

As soon as he got closer to the girl, he realized he had been mistaken about her. She was not the same girl that caught his eye in Psych. He asked her for a beer and made his way into the next room. The house was located on a block where all the buildings were quite old, and close enough together to give the appearance that they were all connected. They were nicknamed "the row houses" since they did appear to be in a row, squeezed in tightly together, all the houses looking alike. Ceilings were high and windows were huge, with ornate woodwork and interesting detail. Hutch laughed at himself for being more interested in the architecture than the party at hand, but he couldn't find any enthusiasm for this group of strangers. He scanned the room again for his dorm friends, but they were not present.

A pretty but obnoxious co-ed from his English Lit class cornered him and chatted with him at length. He didn't particularly like this girl, but he treated her respectfully, finally breaking free of her with the excuse of needing a fresh beer. While he obtained the drink, the girl disappeared with a buddy, giving him a welcome respite.

He sat down on a couch beside a beautiful blonde, and tried to gauge if he had a chance with her. Soon a good looking guy with long black hair took the seat on the other side of the girl, and before long the two were engaged in a lip-lock that dismissed any chance that Hutch may have thought he had. Taking another swig of his beer, he decided to ditch this party as soon as he had finished his drink, if his friends did not make an appearance before then. Not only did he not know many people here, it seemed like a lot of people were either high as a kite, or in the process of getting there, and the music was evolving into this twanging Indian style that he didn't care for. The smell of incense was so strong, it was making his eyes water. He mused that only he could feel alone in a huge building full of happy, partying college students.

A sudden thump drew Hutch's attention to a couch across the room. A couple had been making out on it, and apparently had gotten a bit carried away and fell to the floor. His own chuckle soon died in his throat as he realized that the fall did nothing to cool their ardor. They were now on the floor, in the middle of the crowded room, stripping each other naked. Hutch's youthful hormones would not let him tear his eyes away.

Other people were encouraging the couple on, and others were following their example. The room swiftly changed from a social gathering to an expression of free love. Hutch found himself growing aroused, watching the sea of skin and thrusting bodies all around him, the smell of sex thick in the air. Suddenly the beautiful blonde at his right turned and pushed him down on the couch, kissing him with a fiery passion. He thanked his lucky stars that he should have ended up on this couch at just the right moment, and threw all caution to the wind. He tossed her blouse aside and hiked her skirt up to her hips. He swiftly pulled her under him, and performed cunnilingus until she was crying out from the pleasure. She pushed him aside and climbed on top of him, kissing him fervently, her hands all over his body.

Completely absorbed in his exploration of the blonde, he was only remotely aware that someone was unfastening his jeans and sliding them down his legs. It wasn't until the warm mouth engulfed his cock, while the blonde was kissing him, that he realized that he was now in a ménage a trios. By this time, he was far from caring and was completely involved in the experience.

The blonde pulled from his kiss, her fingers still teasing his nipples, and looked back at Hutch with eyes darkened with lust. "Watching him go down on you is just the hottest thing I've ever seen," she purred at him.

Hutch looked down to see the man that had been making out with her on the couch a little earlier was now sucking his cock with a talent he couldn't resist. The man smiled and slid further down his shaft, taking him right to the hilt.

Hutch gasped. "Oh my God," he blurted, his hips involuntarily thrusting forward with need. The blonde turned his face back to her naked breast, as she continued to watch one man give head to the other.

The man's long dark hair tickling his thighs, the masculine hand stroking his balls, and that heavenly mouth was giving him the most incredible blowjob he had ever experienced. The man was moving his head, working Hutch's shaft in his throat, sending him right into an intense orgasm.

Nothing had ever thrilled him like that, and he was reeling from the physical assault on his senses when the man came up and claimed him in a searing kiss. Hutch threw his arms around him and wrapped his legs about the man in a possessive claim. Without hesitation, Hutch pushed them both to the floor, and proceeded to return the favor by taking the stranger's cock into his own mouth.

They loved with abandon until they collapsed into each other's arms, oblivious to the others in the room. The man with the long black hair gently caressed Hutch's face and reluctantly whispered, "I can't stay. I have to give Melody a ride home."

Hutch had forgotten the blonde hours ago. She had disappeared by the time they moved to the floor. "Is she still here?" he asked in surprise.

The man tugged at the corner of an Indian tapestry that blanketed them both. "She's the one who covered us," he grinned.

"Pretty understanding girlfriend," Hutch spoke doubtfully.

The man laughed. "Melody's not my girl. I adore her with all my heart, but we're just friends. She knows I'm gay. We share a farmhouse with four other people. I've never screwed around with her, though I have kissed her on occasion. She's just a very passionate person." He added with a smile, "So am I."

He stood, reaching for his clothes. Hutch stood as well, the tapestry forgotten on the floor. "I...I don't even know your name," he stammered awkwardly.

Dropping his handful of clothing, he cupped Hutch's face in his hands. Kissing him lovingly, he pulled back and caressed Hutch's cheek. "I'm Trevor. Trevor Prescott."

Hutch smiled. "Ken Hutchinson."

Trevor reached again for his clothes and began to dress. He pulled a pen from his pocket and took Hutch's hand, carefully writing his phone number across the palm of his hand. Trevor then kissed Hutch's palm. Another gentle touch to Hutch's cheek, and Trevor left the room.

Hutch quickly dressed and slipped out from the party unnoticed. His head was spinning over the unexpected night's events. Trevor's scent was still with him, the memory of his touch still alive on his skin.

By the time he returned to the dorm, the party and Trevor were becoming a surreal dream. Nothing that had happened there was part of his normal universe; it didn't fit in with the reality of his life. Within days, he had convinced himself that it was just an experiment in sexuality, probably provoked by the party's exotic music and incense, and encouraged by his overactive hormones of late, and his loneliness since Starsky's departure. It was a one-time event, never to be repeated.

Six days later, he stepped into the campus bookstore to purchase a blue book for an upcoming test. Standing in front of him in the checkout line was Trevor Prescott. Trevor's scent immediately wrapped around him, and his body ached for the man's touch. Hutch's eyes widened when he realized his hands were shaking, and he felt betrayed by his own responses, until Trevor turned around and smiled at him. Hutch's heart melted.

They made small talk until they found themselves on the sidewalk in front of the bookstore.

Trevor was the first to bring up the party. "You never called," he commented. "I'd be lying, Ken, if I said I wasn't disappointed."

"Trevor, I-" Hutch began, but was interrupted by Trevor's hand on his arm.

"It's okay, Ken. I understand," Trevor stated. "You've never been with a guy before, have you?"

Hutch nodded, his cheeks coloring.

"Damn." Trevor shook his head sadly. "I'm probably the last person you want to see right now."

Hutch faced Trevor directly. "I don't regret what happened."

"But it's not something you wish to pursue."

"That's not true!" Hutch insisted. "Damn it, Trevor! You scare the hell out of me!"

Trevor burst into a beautiful smile. "Actually, that's rather encouraging!"

"Easy for you to say," Hutch laughed. His smile faded and he admitted, "I need time."

Trevor nodded. "You are worth waiting for."

Hutch watched him walk away, his heart aching to chase after him.

Later that evening, he had scoured the local phonebook, and eventually contacted the student directory in order to find Trevor. Finally, the university was able to give him an address.

Hutch stood nervously on the doorstep as he saw Melody peek out the window in the door. Her eyes widened and she stepped away. In a loud voice, she called out, "Trevor, get the door, will you? I think it's for you." Then she peeked out again, and winked at Hutch.

The gesture eased Hutch's nervousness until he looked down at the single long stem rose in his hands and wondered if he had done the right thing. He fingered the sturdy stem, bringing the sweet smelling blossom to his nose.

Just then, Trevor pulled the door open and froze at the sight of Ken Hutchinson standing on his doorstep, looking at him over the petals of a huge rose. The sight seemed to paralyze him; Trevor stood transfixed, as if he were burning Hutch's image into his brain and his heart. "Ken," he whispered breathlessly.

"You're not so scary after all," Hutch said softly, extending the rose to dance down the length of Trevor's cheek.

Trevor pulled Hutch into his arms and into a steamy kiss.

 

~*~

 

Hutch fell quiet for a time after telling Starsky of his relationship with Trevor. He had been so submerged in the past, first from his visit with his former love, and now from speaking of their history. The story had been difficult. Pain he believed long healed seemed fresh in the telling.

"I was so anxious to get out from under my parents' thumb," Hutch finally spoke. "I wanted to find myself, discover what it is that I wanted out of life, what my likes and dislikes were, without their influence and expectations. I wanted to get as far away from them as possible. But I was so naïve! I had never really heard of homosexuality back home, let alone bi-sexuality, and here I was falling head over heels with a man. It had never occurred to me to explore that side of my sexuality - I never even knew it existed! Trevor opened my eyes to love, to sex, to passion. I'd never known a love that deep. It sliced me to the bone when I lost him."

"That's how you two met?" Starsky exclaimed. "At a love in? An orgy? Shit, you never took me to parties like that!" He nudged Hutch as he teased him.

Hutch grinned sadly. "I ended up with a broken heart, Starsk. I wouldn't take you someplace that would hurt you like that." He shook his head at Starsky. "Most of what happened at that party was influenced by drugs. I found out later the mixed drinks and the punch were all spiked with LSD. I was drinking bottled beer, so I wasn't exposed, but a lot of people were."

"I don't get it, Hutch. It sounds like you and Trevor were crazy about each other from the start. What split you up?"

Hutch paced across the room. "I was a freshman when Trevor and I met **,** but he was a junior. By the middle of my sophomore year, he was preparing for graduation and making career decisions. He got an offer from KXTN. That was twice any other offer he got. But they had one condition. A morality clause. No drugs, no gambling, no prostitutes, no homosexual behavior..."

"So it came down to you or the job," Starsky summarized.

"Yeah," Hutch said quietly. "If there had even been the slightest rumor about him being gay, they would void his contract. That job was his dream."

"You could have stayed together anyway," Starsky shrugged. "Kept your relationship secret."

"There were a few different options that we thought about," Hutch sighed. "But in the end, the knowledge that he would choose the job over me made all the other choices pointless. He wanted that job so badly, but I didn't see that same need for me."

"Can I ask you something?" Starsky inquired. "How come you never had any other guys? I mean, was Trevor the only one?"

Hutch nodded, taking his seat again beside Starsky. "Right after Trevor, I met Vanessa. I guess you could say I was on the rebound. After Van and I split, I never let anyone get that close, I guess - man or woman. Maybe the idea of loving another man, of putting myself out there and leaving myself vulnerable to that kind of hurt again, was just more risk than my heart could bear. A few women got close over the years, but I never fully gave my heart to anyone after Trevor. Not even to Van."

Starsky grew quiet, and Hutch silently courted the ghosts in his heart. Finally, the silence pulled him from his memories. "You're awful quiet, Starsk. All this too much to take in?"

"You kinda threw me for a loop here, partner. I've known you half my life, and I didn't know you were AC/DC. Gimme a chance to absorb this, will ya?"

"I know you don't understand this," Hutch stated without rebuke. "The idea of two men loving each other disgusts you."

"Now wait. Don't go putting words in my mouth. I know I said some things back when John died, but this is different. John had just been found dead in that rat infested motel, with rumors of gay prostitutes and screwing around behind Maggie's back, and all kinds of crap. There was a lot about John's life that I didn't approve of, and yeah, some of it I still don't understand. But there are a lot of differences between you and John, Hutch. Not only that, but you know I was pretty blown away. John was like a father to me, and he was murdered, and there're all these skeletons falling out of the closet. I got kinda caught up in the emotional bullshit."

Hutch could see the earnestness in Starsky's face, but he still felt concerned. "You were kind of emotional tonight, too," he noted.

"I didn't have all the facts."

"Well, now you have the facts. How's this going to affect us?"

Starsky's eyes locked on his. "Hutch, if you find love, and you're happy, I don't give a shit about the rest. I'm your friend. I'll deal with it."

Hutch took a deep breath, feeling some of his tension easing. He reached out and squeezed Starsky's shoulder.

Starsky suddenly asked, "Hey, if you're attracted to guys, does that mean you sometimes feel attracted to _me_?"

Hutch laughed a humorless laugh. "Come on, Starsky. You don't really want to know the answer to that, do you?"

Starsky frowned. He got up and put his jacket back on, and prepared to leave. He stopped just short of the door. "Yeah, I really wanna know, Hutch. Do you ever feel attracted to me like that? You know, turned on by me?"

Hutch got to his feet and walked up to face Starsky. He stood there nervously, slipping his hands into his front pockets. "Truthfully? Yes. Sometimes I do. Are you going to be okay with that?"

The frown disappeared from Starsky's face, replaced with a strong curiosity. "You do? Like when?"

Hutch thought for a second, and smiled awkwardly. "I don't know. I can't think of anything specific off the top of my head. Sometimes you just do."

Starsky considered his answer. "Yeah, okay. I think I'm okay with that. But I want to know when. You'll tell me?"

Surprised at his reaction, Hutch nodded. "Okay, sure, Starsky. I'll tell you. As long as you don't belt me in the jaw."

He shook his head. "No more punches." He shook his hand out. "My hand is killing me anyway."

 

~*~

 

Starsky knocked on the opulent hotel room door. Trevor pulled the door open, his eyes wide with surprise at his unexpected guest.

"Starsky, come in. What brings you here?" he glanced past Starsky into the hallway.

"It's just me," Starsky informed him. "Hutch isn't with me."

"I've got to admit, you're the last person I expected to see here tonight."

Holding out a six-pack of beer, Starsky explained, "I brought a peace offering." He pretended not to notice Trevor's disbelieving expression, and continued. "I'm sorry I hit you last night."

"No need to apologize, Starsky. I had too much to drink and I said and did things I normally wouldn't." He cast blameful eyes at the six-pack. "Beer is not my usual drink. I think it would be best if I steer clear of it, at least for a while. Do you mind if I pass on this, and have a scotch instead?"

"I guess the beer wasn't such a hot idea," Starsky chuckled.

"Oh, the gesture is appreciated," Trevor assured him. "Especially after I acted like such a jerk last night."

"To tell you the truth," Starsky began carefully, "I _did_ think you were being a real dick." He held up his hand. "At first. But then Hutch told me about your history." He shook his head. "Then _I_ felt like a real dick."

Trevor poured himself a scotch at the bar, and avoided Starsky's eyes. "Ken told you?" His voice was suspicious. "What exactly did Ken tell you about our ‘history'?"

Starsky took a seat in one of the wingback chairs. "He told me how you met. He told me you were lovers."

Nearly dropping his drink, Trevor laughed nervously, taking a seat in the chair across from Starsky. "Holy cow. That must've been a hell of a conversation," he declared. In a quiet voice he added, "Long overdue."

"Can't argue with you there," Starsky laughed.

Studying him a moment, Trevor sipped his drink. "And how did you take this bit of news?"

Starsky shrugged. "I took it okay I guess. It's just Hutch. I just add the new part to the whole picture and take him as he is. Doesn't matter to me if he wants to sleep with guys. As long as he don't get hurt," he said warningly.

"You think I plan to hurt Ken, Starsky?" Trevor asked in amusement.

Starsky shook his head. "No, I really don't," he replied sincerely. "I just can't help but watch out for the guy. He _is_ my partner. He's also my best friend."

"And I hurt him once before," Trevor finished for him.

"Actually," Starsky said slowly, pointing at Trevor with his beer in hand, "that's the part that doesn't make sense to me..."

"What doesn't make sense?"

He shrugged again. "It's the cop in me, I guess. But I've been hearing a lot about you and Hutch, and what I hear doesn't all fit together just right. There's holes in the story, and it sends up little red flags to me."

"So you don't trust me," Trevor observed.

Starsky leaned forward, rolling the beer between his flattened palms. "I wouldn't say that. You know, I have pretty good instincts about people. I trust my gut. My gut tells me you're a decent guy. And you love Hutch. But there's one part of the story that doesn't fit."

"What part is that?"

Starsky sat back in his chair, watching Trevor intently. "The end. From what I hear, you don't seem the type to choose money or a career over love."

Trevor didn't move. He watched Starsky in turn. "Detective, I bet you're very good at your job," he replied.

"I gotta wonder why a guy would go to the trouble to make himself out to be the bad guy, if he really wasn't," Starsky continued. He took another drink of his beer, looking casually at the label.

Taking a hearty swallow of his own drink, Trevor gave a displeased snort. "Who said I wasn't the bad guy?" His voice softened. "I was a very jealous man, Starsky." A ghost seemed to fog his vision for an instant. "I was very jealous of you."

Starsky's head flew up. "Me? Hey, I wasn't even here. What do I have to do with this?"

Trevor stood and walked to the window. Gazing out at the Bay City skyline, he sighed. "You have more to do with this than you know." He turned back to face Starsky, seeming to internally debate something. "I have something I think you should see." He walked over to his briefcase, and searched for something. Pulling out a small pack of envelopes, he flipped through them until he found what he was looking for. He handed the envelope to Starsky.

Taking the envelope, Starsky shook his head. "This is a letter to you from Hutch. I can't read this."

"You should. It's about you." Trevor again held the letter out.

Warily, Starsky asked, "Are you sure about this?" In response, Trevor tossed the letter into Starsky's lap and returned to his seat. Starsky set down his beer and picked up the envelope as if it were fragile.

Trevor explained, "I had gone to Seattle for training, and Ken and I kept in touch mostly through letters, trying to keep down the long distance bills. I was looking for a place to live, and temporarily staying in an apartment owned by XTN. I was planning on coming back to see Ken during his break from classes. At first his letters came every couple of days. Then after a few weeks, they just stopped. Then I got this."

Starsky opened it carefully, and felt more comfortable scanning his eyes over the very familiar handwriting. The letter was more than twenty years old, and brought his past rushing back in an unexpected jolt. As he began to read, Trevor got up and walked out to the patio, to let him read the document in peace.

 

_Dear Trevor,_

_I'm sorry I haven't written in a couple weeks, but I think you will understand when you hear my incredible news._

_My friend Dave Starsky has returned from Viet Nam! I can't tell you the relief and joy I felt at seeing him alive, and whole, and from all initial indications, undamaged. His return has not been entirely happy, however. Some scars of battle are not visible._

_His re-appearance was very odd. There was no warning. No letter or telegraph to alert me to his homecoming. I walked out to my car to run an errand, and found him sitting on the trunk cross-legged, waiting for me. You would have thought it was any other day, as if he'd never left. I just stood there dumbfounded, my mouth hanging open, my heart in my throat.  He looks up and casually announces, "I thought we might head up to El Ranchero's for a couple enchiladas. I've been dying for Mexican." As if there was nothing unusual about him just popping by out of the blue like that._

_Trevor, it was surreal. I wanted to run and shout and pull him into an embrace, but he shut me down with a single look. I didn't know what to say, how to react. I said the first foolish thing that popped in my head. I told him that stuff was bad for him, would eat holes in his stomach and set fire to his intestines. He just shrugged and told me I could get a taco salad if I didn't want an enchilada. (I didn't want to know what kind of God-awful creation that was -taco salad???) Then he hopped off my car and got in, as if it were two years ago and he had never left. There was no hug, no handshake - not even a smile. In fact, that was the strangest thing. He never smiled._

_Lunch was so ordinary. I don't even remember what we talked about, but it had nothing to do with the Army or the war or the fact that he was BACK. It was normal stuff, like a couple we knew that was getting married, or wanting to check out a movie neither of us had seen. I couldn't stand it. I finally reached across the table and grabbed his hand. He had clenched it into a fist, and I held on and refused to let him pull away. The fact that he tried to pull away infuriated me, and I must have given him one hell of a glare, because he suddenly relented. He gave me a funny look, and asked, "Not today, okay Hutch? Not today." It was then I finally made a brief connection with him. It only lasted a second, but in that instant, I understood. He needed the normalcy, he needed the ordinary. This scared me. What could have happened to him that would make him need the mundane?_

_Soon enough, I found out._

_I continued to treat Starsky with as much normalcy as I could muster. It was killing me. While he was gone, it terrified me that he would come back somehow changed or different. I feared that he would lose his innocence, that joyful optimism, that childlike awe of the world. He possesses such spontaneity! I grant you, his impulsiveness is often what drives me crazy about him, but it is also the thing that draws me to him, the very thing I find myself seeking from him when I am down. And now here he was: a mature, serious, disillusioned man. I hated it. Damn it, I knew he was still in there - I caught a glimpse of him in the restaurant. But how do I reach him? How do I pull him out of himself? He asked for normalcy, and I gave it, but it had no effect except to keep him around. If I seemed to be getting too close, he would disappear in the blink of an eye. I didn't know which was worse, having him gone, or having him back but not himself._

_Then something strange happened. We had gone to the grocery store to pick up dinner. As we were walking through the lot, this old car backfired. Starsky shouted, "GET DOWN!" and tackled me right there on the pavement. He scared the hell out of me. Here I was, lying flat on my back, my head aching from the impact, my back burning from the hot asphalt, and Starsky sprawled out on top of me like some kind of human shield. You should have seen the look on his face. He was terrified, covered in sweat, and obviously confused. He was not in that parking lot in Bay City. He was somewhere else entirely. I tried to talk to him, ask him if he was okay, and I could see him slowly return to reality, like he was following my voice. Embarrassed, he looked down at me and smiled. Smiled! He cocks his head and says, "I guess this is as good a time as any to tell you I really missed you, buddy."_

_I couldn't believe it. I burst out laughing. So did Starsky. We looked like a couple of fools, laying on the pavement, Starsky still on top of me, laughing like a couple of lunatics. I laughed so hard I had tears streaming down my face. Or was I crying? I couldn't tell you. All I know is I had my Starsky back. And I sure as hell wasn't letting go. I pulled him down until our foreheads were touching, just holding him, reveling in the fact that he was back, that he was alive, and he was going to be okay._

_A gray-haired old man came up to us, while we were lying on the ground holding each other like that. He comes to a halt, with his heels coming together in a sharp click. He said to Starsky in a commanding tone, "You all right there, Soldier? You need a hand?"_

_Starsky answers, "Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!" and the man pulls him to his feet. Starsky then snaps to attention, his arm pulled up in a rigid salute. The old man pulled Starsky's hand down, and shook it instead, telling him, "You're home now, son." Starsky looked rather meek, and red-faced. He asked, "How did you know?"_

_The old man winked at him and told him that he fought in World War II. "The Big One" he called it. Introduced himself as Lt. Col. Something-or-other. Then he laughs and tells us both that when he first came back, he tackled his priest at a church fundraiser, after a child popped a balloon. "Knocked poor old Father Mackie right on his kiester! Even tore the padre's cassock. Never been so embarrassed in all my days. But the good Father dusted himself off and thanked me. Said it was good to know that his parishioners cared enough about him to shove him out of harm's way." The old man patted Starsky on the back and went on his way. I wonder if he has any idea how much he helped us. He helped Starsky find some dignity in his reflexive actions, and helped me keep my friend around a bit longer._

_Only a bit longer, though. By the time we had finished shopping and were heading home, the walls had come back up around Starsky, and he was completely closed off again. The smile was gone, that dead look was back in his eyes. I wanted to scream._

_It all came to a head shortly after that. Frustrated with Starsky's evasive moves, I tried to encourage him to go back to school, to get back into the things that used to interest him. He refused to listen. Refused to register for school. Finally, he really pissed me off. I got right in his face and grabbed him and shook him. I screamed that I wasn't going to let him shut me out. He was going to talk to me, damn it! He was going to let me in! I could practically see the walls he had built come crashing down around us both._

_Starsky looked devastated. He told me he wanted to talk to me about it, but couldn't bring himself to share this nightmare with me. I pushed him, I begged him, I demanded. He finally opened up. He told me the worst of it. He had been through hell. He had seen things I can only describe as pure evil. The stories we've heard about the war are true, Trevor. And we didn't hear the half of it. Please don't ever ask me. I don't want to think about it again._

_By the time he had finished pouring out his soul to me, we were both crying. I held him in my arms until he fell asleep from pure exhaustion. I just sat there watching him sleep, alternately cursing God for exposing this gentle heart to visions of horrifying atrocities, and thanking God for keeping him safe and sane after the hell he'd been through._

_I probably shouldn't refer to him as a gentle heart - it gives the impression that he's somehow weak, but he's not -It's from this gentle and loving heart that he draws incredible strength. He has a determined and undying faith in the goodness of men, even after being witness to man's inhumanity to man. No matter how dark it is around him, he still sees the light - the hope. This draws out a deep protectiveness from me, a need to shelter him from anything that could harm his body or his spirit; but he neither wants nor needs my protection. In fact, it's probably closer to the truth to say that he ends up sheltering me from the effects of darkness upon my own heart. He is so much stronger than I am, Trevor. I'm lucky I've led such a sheltered life._

_At one point I asked how he coped, what kept him from going over the edge like some of his platoon did. He told me that it was because of me, and because of my letters. Can you imagine? He said that knowing there were people like me around kept him from believing the hell he saw was swallowing up the whole world. And here I wrote those letters to comfort him when he was homesick. I had no idea they would have the power to banish despair!_

_That night was the hardest night of my life. It turned everything around, though, and Starsky is now more like his old self. It's just a matter of time and healing. We finally did get around to going out and celebrating his return. Now I can't wait to see you again so that I can share this celebration with you, too._

_So forgive me for not writing lately. This has been an emotional rollercoaster ride. God, I miss you. I'm really looking forward to your visit. The next two weeks will seem endless..._

_All my love,_

_Ken_

 

For a while, Starsky just stared at the pages of the letter. He didn't lift his eyes from the paper, fearing his emotions would get the best of him. Trevor had returned, just as he was reading the last of it, and patiently waited for Starsky's reaction. Schooling his emotions and utilizing the best poker face he could manage, he casually folded the letter back up. "Not exactly like the letters he wrote me," he declared facetiously.

"I suspect not," Trevor replied quietly. "You know, it killed me to read that."

"Trevor, you can't possibly think that there was anything going on between Hutch and me..."

"And you can't possibly read that and not know Ken loves you."

"Sure he loves me. We're like brothers..."

"That is _not_ a brotherly love. He _adores_ you. He loves you." Trevor looked down at his glass, then set it on the end table. He looked back at Starsky and stated, "I have no doubt that if you were gay, Ken would have been with you, not me."

Starsky eyed Trevor with clarity. "You cut him loose," he whispered. "You let him go."

"Ken deserves better than to settle for second choice."

"Is this why you're back here? Because you regret cutting him loose? You want him back?"

Trevor paused as he considered his answer. "I'm contemplating a career change because I believe I've gone as far as I can go in my current position. I made KXTN into a media empire, and now it's time I moved on to new challenges. Because the television media is focused in California and New York, most of my career opportunities are in this area, so returning to Bay City makes sense for my future."

"And this has nothing to do with Hutch?" Starsky asked doubtfully.

A grin crossed Trevor's face. "I wouldn't say that." He shrugged. "I haven't really had a chance to talk to Ken.  I have no idea if that's even a consideration. But it is a possibility that I would like to explore, yes."

Starsky looked at the letter in his hands and sighed. "If you want any chance at all with Hutch, I suggest you stick with the truth," he advised. "Tell him why you really ended the relationship. He deserves the truth."

"Thanks for the advice," Trevor gave him an appreciative nod.

 

~*~

 

As he tucked the phone's receiver under his ear, Hutch swept through the pages of the phone book to find the hotel listings. Finally locating the number he was looking for, he pressed the numbers into the keypad.  When he heard Trevor announce his full name formally into the earpiece, Hutch gripped the phone tighter. "Trevor, it's Ken."

"I was just about to call you!"

Hutch smiled. "Were you? Listen, I was wondering if you had some time this afternoon. I'd like to talk...privately. We never did get a chance to catch up."

"Good. I was hoping we'd get to talk. Right now is fine. I have the evening free. Do you want me to come over?"

Hutch scanned his apartment, his eyes falling on the bed. "Um, why don't I come over there? We're less likely to be interrupted at your place."

"My place it is. Come over any time."

"Great. I'll see you in about an hour."

"Ken? Thanks."

Dropping the earpiece into the cradle, Hutch continued to stare at the phone, lost in thought.

 

~*~

 

Trevor pulled his hotel door open and grinned at the sight of Ken Hutchinson in the doorway. Even knowing that the man was on his way didn't prepare him for the reality of having him standing at his threshold, looking so damn good. He was dressed in black, from head to foot; black jeans, black turtleneck, black leather blazer. All that darkness made his blond hair seem to glow, and his blue eyes seem a deeper hue.

"Hi," he smiled. "Come on in."

Hutch walked in, taking in the opulent hotel room with appreciative eyes. "This is nice, Trevor. Great room." His gaze fell upon the sliding doors to the patio balcony overlooking the Bay City skyline as he slowly strode across the room. "Beautiful view."

"Isn't it?" Trevor agreed, looking down at the late afternoon sun glittering on the ocean waves. "I'd almost forgotten how pretty it is here."

Hutch reached out and touched Trevor's shoulder, turning the man toward him. He stepped up to him, taking him into his arms in a crushing hug. "I've missed you."

The move surprised Trevor, who was suddenly engulfed in leather and warmth. He gasped at the tight squeeze, and wrapped his own arms around Hutch, returning the embrace just as tightly. "I've missed you too." They hugged, cheek to cheek, until Hutch turned to place an affectionate kiss on Trevor's cheek, and then his neck. He nuzzled his cheek against Trevor's once again before he pulled back to gaze at him.

Though delighted at the affection Hutch displayed, Trevor was taken aback at his brazen study of his face. Only inches apart, Hutch openly stared at his features, grazing his thumb lightly over the laugh lines beside Trevor's eyes, sliding his fingers into the grey streaks of hair at his temples.

"I've changed," Trevor admitted, unnerved by Hutch's memorization of his maturing features.

"It suits you," Hutch answered in a silky voice, touching the crinkles beside his eyes. "The laugh lines just seem to bring your personality from the inside out, as if you have so much laughter and joy within that it has to find its way to the surface to be seen." He again touched the hair at Trevor's temples. "The silver here brings out festive little sparkles to brighten your face." Their eyes met, and Hutch shook himself from his reverie, stepping back slightly from Trevor.

"You haven't changed a bit," Trevor said quietly. "You look exactly as I remember you."

"Your memory is slipping," Hutch grinned. He pulled back, as if to withdraw from his arms completely.

As soon as he moved a slight distance, Trevor stopped him. With a questing hand, he pulled open Hutch's blazer and ran his hand underneath until it brushed against the leather holster below his arm.

"I'm sorry," Hutch said softly. "That was rude." He quickly removed his blazer and unbuckled his holster, placing the gun on Trevor's table. "I've wanted to throw my arms around you ever since I first saw you, and this was the first chance I had. I should've removed my weapon first."

"No, it's okay. I just wondered what you were wearing. I guess I never really thought about the fact that as a detective you'd wear a gun." He smiled at Hutch. "But it's good to know you wanted to hold me. I've been wanting that too, but I was afraid you'd want nothing to do with me."

Hutch looked at him quizzically. "Why would you say that?"

"Because of the past," he replied quietly.

Hutch shook his head. "I've got nothing against you. I can't fault you for having a dream, or making your work a priority."

Trevor bowed his head in thought. "Ken, I really need to talk to you about that."

"About what?"

Directing him to the couch to sit down, Trevor continued. "About why we broke up. Listen, I wasn't completely honest with you."

Hutch looked at him, a puzzled expression on his face. "What do you mean?"

He took a deep breath. "I let you think it was because of the job, but it wasn't. It was easier than telling you the truth. If you knew the real reason, you would've argued with me, and I couldn't let you talk me out of it."

"I don't get it, Trevor. What was it?" A sudden thought occurred to him. "Did you meet someone else?"

Trevor clutched his arm. "No! Nothing like that." He looked away a moment before continuing. "Ken, I was so jealous..."

"Jealous! Of what?"

Facing him, he watched Hutch intently as he answered. "Of Starsky."

Hutch straightened. "Starsky!" He looked at his former lover in disbelief. "Why would you be jealous of Starsky?" He shook his head. "You never even met him until now. He was half a world away then. What did he have to do with us?"

"I knew you were in love with him."

_"In love!"_ Hutch sprang to his feet and paced away from him. "Trevor, you should have come to me with this." He stopped, his hands on his hips, staring off at nothing. "I don't understand! You _knew_ we were just friends. You knew he was straight. Why on earth would you think something was going on?"

"I didn't think you were screwing around on me..."

"Then what?"

"I knew you were in love."

Anger burned brightly in Hutch's eyes. "You're damn right I was in love! _With you!"_ As if regretting the outburst, he ground his teeth together, turning away from Trevor. It was obvious he hadn't expected to get into a heated discussion over something that had happened decades ago.

Trevor moved back to Hutch's side, turning Hutch to face him. He laid a calming hand over Hutch's heart.

Seeming touched by the gesture, Hutch covered Trevor's hand with his own, and gave a gentle squeeze.

"I didn't mean to open old wounds," Trevor said softly. "I never meant to hurt you, Ken. Not then, and not now."

With a weary smile, Hutch chuckled. "Funny how the years fall away just like that, and you make me feel twenty years old again."

"Old family secret. Passed down from Ponce de Leon."

Hutch raised an eyebrow. "I hate to break this to you Prescott, but you aren't Spanish."

Trevor cocked his head playfully, "No, but I do make a mean paella."

He laughed and pulled Trevor into his arms again. "That's right! I forgot about that. But I don't know if it really was that good, or if it was all that sangria we drank."

"Probably a bit of both," Trevor admitted, grinning as he nestled against Hutch's chest. "But I'm a better cook now."

"You were a good cook then."

The two men held each other for a moment. Hutch's initial anger seemed to have evaporated quickly, and Trevor felt it replaced with a comfortable warmth.

"Trevor," Hutch began softly, "Starsky is my best friend. Yes, I love him. But there has never been anything sexual between us. We're like brothers."

Trevor smiled and pulled away. "That's funny. That's exactly what Starsky said."

"Starsky?"

"He came by this afternoon," Trevor informed him. He walked over to his fridge and pulled it open. "He brought me some beer as a peace offering, for hitting me last night. You want some?"

Hutch blinked. "Yeah, sure. Starsky was here?"

As Trevor walked past the desk, beer in hand, he pulled an envelope from his briefcase. "Yes, he was here. For quite a while." He gave Hutch his drink. "He's a rather perceptive man."

"Yeah, he is." Hutch responded absently. "What did you talk about?"

Trevor sat down on the couch again, casually fingering the envelope in his hand. "For one thing, we talked about this," he answered, holding up the envelope.

Taking the envelope from his hands, Hutch sat beside Trevor and examined the item. A look of horror crossed his face. "One of my letters? Oh please. Tell me you didn't let him read one of my letters!"

Trevor chuckled. "Don't worry, it wasn't one of _those_ letters. This one's clean. In fact, it's about Starsky. Go ahead; read it." As Hutch read the letter, Trevor busied himself by pouring a drink. He watched Hutch as he read, studying his expressions.

When he finished, Hutch sat back in the couch and let his head fall back as well. He looked up at the ceiling, letting out a long breath. "That brings back memories," he murmured. Letting his head roll to the side, he looked at Trevor, who was still leaning against the wall behind the bar watching him. "I don't even remember writing that. I mean, I remember the time, what I wrote about, but I don't remember putting it on paper." Lifting his head, he asked, "You let Starsky read this?"

Nodding, Trevor walked from behind the bar and sat across from Hutch in a chair. "Yes I did.  I told him there was no way he could read that and not _know_ you love him."

Hutch sat upright. "What did he say to that?"

Grinning ironically, he replied, "He said the same thing you did. That you love him like a brother." His smile faded away. "I told him it wasn't a brotherly love. You adore him. You _love_ him."

"Did he agree with you?"

Trevor shook his head. "He didn't respond to that."

Hutch dragged a hand over his mouth, his concern unconcealed. "Trevor, Starsky is my best friend. I spent two years living with the fear that he wouldn't come home. It was a very emotional time for me. Please, look at this in context..."

"Hold it," Trevor interrupted. "Ken, I think _you_ need to look at this in context. I was a thousand miles from the man I loved, dying a little every single day I was away from you. Then I read that letter. I read about another man who is, for all intents and purposes, taking my place in your life. A man you adore."

"Trevor," Hutch whispered.

 "I could feel myself losing you to him, and there was nothing I could do about it."

Trevor knew he could no longer disguise the stricken expression in his own eyes. His emotions were too raw now for him to hide.

Hutch must have seen it plainly and the sudden realization seemed to hit him hard, as he had to finally understand that Trevor had been hurt by their break up, just as Hutch had been.  Hutch got up and went to Trevor, kneeling beside his chair, taking his hand as if to comfort the pain that still haunted Trevor.

"The more you wrote about Starsky, and the more I heard about him on the phone, it became pretty clear how deeply you cared for him. I have no doubt, had he been gay, you would have been with him, not me."

"My relationship with Starsky had nothing to do with us," Hutch objected. "I was with you, not him."

Trevor picked up the letter and dangled it in front of Hutch. "Tell me something. Why doesn't Starsky have a letter like this, about me?"

"Huh?"

"Why doesn't Starsky have a letter telling him that you fell in love? Why is it that I know all about Starsky, yet he knows absolutely nothing about me? Not even all these years later."

"But Trevor," Hutch was confused. "Your job..."

"No," Trevor shook his head. "We were together for two years before I took that job. I _never_ asked you to hide our relationship. Not even after I signed that contract. Why is it that you never spoke of me to your best friend?"

Hutch was silent, unable to answer the question at first. "My relationship with you was...deeply personal. _Private_..."

"Ken, I think you've loved Starsky for a long time, but you can't even admit it to yourself. I think subconsciously you kept this from him because you struggled with issues of loyalty to your relationship with him."

"You make it sound like I was cheating on Starsky _with you_ ," Hutch stammered.

"That's what it felt like. Like I was your paramour. I began to doubt you'd be willing to leave Bay City, unless Starsky did. I wanted to ask you to finish school in Washington with me, but I knew you wouldn't leave Starsky."

"How could I do that? With the contract you signed, it was too dangerous for me to be there with you."

"I was hoping we could find a way to work around it, and I was trying to see what I could arrange so that we could continue to see each other. But Seattle wasn't as liberal and protective as college had been. The campus gave us a rather sheltered life. It was going to be a lot more difficult than I thought to keep our relationship secret." Trevor dropped his head in defeat. "I was starting to wonder if I was doing the right thing, holding on to you. I wanted to ask you to leave your friends and family, leave everything behind, to live in secret with me. I wanted you to carry on with our relationship and face being rejected by society. It wasn't fair to you. Christ, you were straight when I met you, and here I was asking you throw everything away for me!"

Hutch frowned. "Is that how you saw it? Like some kind of uneven scale? I had to give everything up, but you didn't? Your family wasn't supportive of you. You lost friends because of your sexuality. You left everything behind. But these were _your choices_. I never got the chance to make any choices. You took that away from me, made the choices for me."

Trevor looked at him knowingly. "Tell me, Ken. How do you think Starsky would have taken the news that we were lovers? If you had told him then, how do you imagine he would have reacted? Would you have lost your best friend?"

"I doubt he would have taken it well," he said thoughtfully. "But I'd like to believe I wouldn't have lost his friendship. I don't know, Trevor. How can I guess that?" He shifted in his seat, obviously uncomfortable with the question.

"Would you have risked it?"

Hutch sat straighter in his chair. "I would have. You know I would have. I loved you."

Trevor cocked his head at the response. "I know you _didn't_ risk it. Not on your own. And I wasn't going to ask you to. Just as I wasn't going to ask you to throw everything away to follow me."

"Trevor," he said softly. "Why didn't you come to me with all of this? Didn't you have any faith in me at all?"

Trevor reached up and let his fingers feather into Hutch's hair. "I had all the faith in the world in you. I knew if I came to you, you'd tell me everything I wanted and needed to hear. You'd make sacrifices. You'd come with me. But you couldn't erase the fact that you love Starsky."

"So you left me? Did you think I couldn't love you both? Starsky as my friend, and you as my lover? Why did it have to come down to you or him?"

"Your love for Starsky isn't merely friendship," he insisted. He took Hutch's face in his hands. "I've known your love! Don't you think I can recognize it?" Trevor searched his eyes. "I want you to love with _all_ your heart. You couldn't do that with me. And you couldn't have him. I wanted you to find the one love you could truly give yourself to. All of yourself. I wanted you to find true love."

"You thought you were holding me back?" Hutch whispered.

"If you stayed with me, you would have been settling. I loved you too much to let you do that, even if it meant letting you go."

Hutch squeezed his eyes closed as if overwhelmed by the torrent of emotion coursing through him. "I thought I'd gotten over you...thought all that pain had long since healed...but now.... Now, how am I supposed to put everything back in place, to restore the order in my life, to find that peace again...to set my heart right again?" He pressed his forehead against Trevor's leg, clenching his jaw as if trying to steady his own disquiet.

Trevor's hand caressed Hutch's hair soothingly. He ached seeing Hutch wounded yet again, his own heart the offending weapon. "I'm sorry I hurt you," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to stir up all this old pain."

A sad smile crossed Hutch's face as he looked back up at Trevor. "I'm not sorry," he assured him. "I never could accept the way we split. At least now, I can understand what happened and why."

Trevor gave a relieved, nervous laugh. "You have Starsky to thank for that. I had no intention of dragging all this up when I came back here."

"What do you mean? You discussed this with Starsky?"

"He questioned me about why we broke up. I guess he couldn't quite accept it either. I ended up revealing a lot more than I wanted. But he's real easy to talk to, and he gave me some advice. He told me I should tell you the truth, that you deserved to know what really happened."

"I'm glad you took his advice," Hutch said. "It gave me answers. I can close that door for good now, and let it go."

Clasping Hutch's shoulder tightly, Trevor said, "Before you close that door, Ken, I need to ask you something." He paused a moment, trying to muscle up his courage to ask a dangerous question. "Do you still have feelings for me?"

Taken aback by the question, Hutch answered somewhat defensively. "How can you ask that? Trevor, I'll _always_ have feelings for you. There's a part of me that will love you forever. Hasn't tonight proven that to you?" He patted Trevor's leg. "I can't hate you."

Trevor slid off the chair and knelt on the floor beside Hutch. "Ken, would you consider giving me...giving _us..._ another chance?"

Hutch's mouth dropped open in disbelief. "Oh Trevor, I don't know..." He sat back, as if subconsciously putting distance between them. He stared off, unfocused, as if many thoughts were rushing through him at once.

Trevor moved close to Hutch and traced a single finger down his face. Hutch studied him, his eyes now locked on his. "Ken, I love you. Please, just think about it."

"You don't love me, Trevor," Hutch pulled Trevor's hand from his cheek and folded it within his own. His eyes were sorrowful as he spoke. "You love someone who doesn't exist. I'm not that twenty-year-old kid anymore. You don't even know me."

Undaunted, Trevor smiled; his face softened with affection. "I know you, Ken."

Closing his eyes, Hutch took in a shaky breath.

Trevor moved closer, so Hutch could feel the heat of his body, could feel his scent wrap around him, could anticipate the touch that was coming.

"Trevor, please," Hutch whispered. "I can't just pick up where we left off like nothing's changed."

"Yes, I've changed. I'm wiser, stronger, more successful. I have more to offer you, Ken. I'd like to think I've changed for the better."

"We've lived different lives. You've lived surrounded by angels and heaven and saviors. I've lived surrounded by murderers and pushers and thieves. I've seen hell. It has to have changed us, Trevor. I'm not that idealistic boy anymore. And I'm sorry, but I don't really know you. I know who you _were_."

As Hutch watched **,** Trevor knew he couldn't hide the pain flashing though his own eyes. Trevor looked up at Hutch and announced with conviction, "I know you, Ken. I know every single cell in your body. I know your soul. I know every beat of your heart. You may have changed, aged; it doesn't matter. I know the man, and all the goodness he contains. I know the ‘you' that time or experience can't change, and I know how absolutely incredible you are."

That declaration seemed to tear Hutch's heart. He caressed Trevor's lip with his thumb as he asked, "Are you still the same man who introduced me to love? Who introduced me to passion?"

Trevor pulled Hutch to him and kissed him adoringly. As the kiss ended, he did not pull away, whispering against Hutch's lips, "I'm that same man." He kissed him again, then held Hutch's face in his hands. "Give me another chance, Ken. I promise I'll never give you reason to regret it."

Hutch pulled his hands from his face. "What makes you think this time will be different? Starsky is still my best friend. In fact, we're closer now than ever."

Facing him confidently, Trevor replied, "I can give you what Starsky can't. No matter how you look at it, unrequited love is a loss. I suspect you've been grieving over that loss for a long time. You need more. I can love you the way you need to be loved."

"You always could love me the way I needed, Trevor. You were the best lover I've ever known. That didn't stop you from walking out. Why would this time be different?"

"Because back then you hadn't accepted that you could never have him. By now, you must have come to terms with that, accepted that he's unattainable. There has to have been some withdrawal on your part, some letting go. It would kill you not to."

"Our relationship is stronger, not weaker."

"Your friendship is stronger," Trevor corrected. "Your love hasn't grown. What doesn't grow, dies. If you haven't fallen out of love with him, you can, and you will. I couldn't say that twenty years ago."

Hutch looked down, as if lost in thought.

Trevor touched his jaw, and Hutch looked up into Trevor's now mischievous eyes. "I was the best lover you've had?" Trevor inquired.

Smiling fondly, Hutch replied, "Yes. Does that surprise you?"

"Best male lover? Or best altogether?" His grin broadened. "You _are_ equal opportunity, after all."

"Over all," Hutch answered. He paused a moment before adding, "There were no other men."

The unexpected answer made Trevor sit upright. "No? Why not?" he blurted. His eyes were wide as he stated, "God, Ken, with the way you felt about sex and relationships, I just assumed you would end up with a man as your mate. Why am I the only man you've ever been with? Were you trying to play it straight?"

"No, it wasn't that. There were other...opportunities..." Hutch shook his head. "You were a tough act to follow."

"And women? Is there a woman on the side I need to know about?"

Hutch shook his head. "Not at the moment."

Trevor's brow furrowed. "You never took another male lover, and you are alone now? I don't understand, Ken. You are such a giving person. Why would you choose to live alone? How can this be enough for you?"

"I'm not alone," Hutch denied. "I do date. I have strong friendships. I have family. I have my work relationships. It's a good life. It's very fulfilling." He hesitated before adding, "I did marry, a long time ago."

"It didn't work out?"

"No. It seems being a cop's wife isn't all it's cracked up to be." He sighed deeply. "She hated the long, unpredictable hours, the lousy pay. And she hated the danger. She'd get terrified if I didn't call when I said I would, or if I wasn't home right when she thought I should be. It was all hard on her. It's been hard on _anyone_ I dated," he added pointedly. He smiled wryly, dropping his head. "Of course, Starsky said I have lousy taste in women. He said they were all ‘phonies, airheads and psychos.' My wife he considered a phony, and a bitch. It was a terrible, nasty divorce. Made me very gun-shy about attempting another marriage."

Trevor returned the smile. "Bad taste in women, huh? How's your taste in men?"

Hutch's smile faded as he held his head high. "My taste in men is impeccable."

With a huff, Trevor replied, "Oh yes. Your experience with me was so good, you never wanted to touch another man again. I'm right up there with the woman you just called a bitch. She made you steer clear of marriage, and I made you steer clear of men."

Hutch tilted Trevor's chin to look directly at him. "My experience with you was wonderful. I have never loved so freely, been satisfied so deeply, been loved so completely. But losing you was the greatest loss I've ever known. I couldn't take that chance again, couldn't allow myself to get that close to anyone again. That's why I was never with another man. Not because being with you was such a bad experience, but because it was too damn good."

Trevor's jaw dropped. The realization made his heart soar, "You still love me! Don't you! That's why there were no other men!"

Hutch held up his hand, "I still love _a memory_ ," he clarified. "What I feel isn't about you and me. I love a boy I knew a lifetime ago. I'll always love him. That isn't us. That isn't _now_. We're strangers to each other."

"You'll never be a stranger to me," Trevor vehemently denied. "I know what's under those walls you've built up and those scars you bear. I know your hopes and dreams and passions. Experiences may have changed you on the surface, but I know what's deep down inside you." He pulled Hutch tighter into his arms. "I will win you back, Ken. I know you love me, and I won't let you run from me. Don't deny us this chance."

Studying Trevor's face, Hutch seemed to draw himself together, as if forcing himself to remain practical. "But we can't go back to what we had. We have to start fresh. Let's get to know each other first."

A smile burst across Trevor's face. "You want me to woo you?" Trevor offered, his eyes dancing with delight.

"I want you to take things slow," Hutch explained. "Just take it a step at a time, and let's see if we're still compatible."

"I have no doubt we're compatible," Trevor smiled. "And you know it too." He kissed down Hutch's neck, as he whispered, "I'm going to win your heart. I'm going to earn your trust. I'm going to claim your body and give you pleasure. I promise you every happiness..."

Hutch chuckled. "And I'm going to teach you the meaning of _slow_."

 

~*~

 

Late that night, Starsky awoke to the sound of his apartment door closing. He shuffled out, half blind from the soft light emanating from his living room.

Hutch had removed his jacket and holster and was sitting on the edge of the couch cushion, looking jumpy, and completely immersed in his thoughts. His head was bowed, and he was concentrating on something imaginary on the back of his hand.

Plopping down next to him, Starsky gave a huge yawn. "You saw Trevor, huh?"

Hutch nodded, then cast a sideways glance at his friend. "Yeah. I heard you did too."

Finally completely awake, Starsky leaned back and folded his hands across his belly. "You okay?"

He relaxed a bit, and a small grin turned up the corner of his mouth. "Yeah. I'm good. We talked for a long time."

Starsky nodded his approval, but kept quiet, ready to listen.

One eyebrow cocked high, Hutch looked directly at Starsky. "Trevor said you advised him to come clean with me."

Giving an exaggerated nod, Starsky replied, "I did. Figured the truth would feel a lot better than that crap he let you believe."

Shaking his head, Hutch muttered, "I can't believe he was jealous of you."

"Wasn't _me_ ," Starsky replied. "He was jealous of _us_ , of how much you love me." Starsky grinned, in spite of his sleepiness.

Hutch smiled at his friend. "Oh yeah, that's all you need. More fodder for your ego." He shook his head in mock disbelief. Then a thought seemed to occur to him. "Oh! And about that letter..."

Starsky waved a casually dismissive hand. "You've been worrying about that, haven't you. Relax Hutch."

Chuckling, Hutch confessed. "Honestly, well yeah, I have. As soon as he told me he made you read it, and what he felt about it, I couldn't stop wondering what went through your head." He reached for the coat he had cast over the armrest of the couch, and pulled some pages from the pocket. "But that's not what I was going to say. Trevor asked me to give this to you."

Starsky took the papers from Hutch and unfolded them. His eyes widened at what he saw, and he sat bolt upright, scanning the Xeroxed pages. "He copied your letter for me?"

"He said he thought you should have it, but he couldn't bring himself to part with the original."

"This is great!" he declared happily.

"You don't mind...?"

Perplexed, Starsky looked at him blankly. "Mind? Why should I mind?"

"You know he considers this letter to be evidence I'm in love with you."

Starsky clutched the letter to his chest. "I don't care what he thinks of it, Hutch. I thought it was nice. I just wish you coulda said that to me yourself."

"There's nothing in there you didn't know," he insisted.

"Yeah, I know, but still...it's nice to hear. There's nothing you can't say to me."

Hutch leaned closer to him and slid his hand into Starsky's hair. Quoting his own words from the letter, he spoke aloud, "Starsky, your impulsiveness is often what drives me crazy about you."

Laughing at the fact that Hutch chose the least flattering sentiment to repeat, Starsky asked, "Now was that so hard?"

Laughing himself now, Hutch answered, "No, it wasn't."

Knocking Hutch's hand from his hair, he declared, "Just so you know, there isn't anything in there you couldn't say to my face. I'd rather hear it from you then hear it from Trevor."

A look of puzzlement crossed Hutch's face, but vanished quickly. "Starsky, I want you to know, I didn't mean to keep my relationship with Trevor secret from _you._ When you came home, he had already left town. You had your own issues to deal with, and I didn't want to make life anymore complicated than it was. Then Trevor and me split up, and I didn't want to talk about it, or think about it. Then Van came along... I guess there just didn't seem to be any reason to dredge it all up."

"So are you two back together again?" Starsky asked casually.

"I don't know about that," Hutch answered evasively. "We did a lot of talking tonight, and mended a lot of fences. But I don't know if that's going to happen. Trevor made his intentions clear. He wants to try again." Hutch shrugged. "I suggested we need some time to get to know each other once more." He looked at Starsky and grinned. "I'm not the same guy I was twenty years ago. I've changed."

"You and me both," Starsky grinned back.

"Yes, Trevor too," he added quietly. "You know, it's ironic. Now he's leaving the job that forced him into the closet, but this time it would be me that would be forced to keep our relationship hidden because of my job."

"Have you really thought about that?" Starsky inquired. "You know I've never participated in a ‘Code Pink', and I'd never tolerate anyone doing that to you or anyone else, but it'll be something you'll probably have to face at some point. Are you willing to deal with that?"

‘Code Pink' was a private code within the police force, indicating a refusal to assist a fellow gay officer. It could involve anything from harassment to violence to leaving an officer in a life-threatening situation without aid. It was a practice still employed by homophobic police officers across the nation, though it was neither encouraged nor tolerated by their superiors. Unfortunately, it was also hard to prove, and hard to control.

Hutch sighed. "It's not my safety I'm worried about," Hutch said pointedly. "It's yours."

Starsky snorted indignantly. "The only back up I've ever needed was you. I'm not worried." Then he added, "Anyone tries to issue a Code Pink against you, they'll have to deal with me."

Hutch stood and prepared to leave. "Well, if anything does develop with me and Trevor, I do plan on being discreet. I don't expect it ever to come down to that. Hell, I don't even know if we're going to start seeing each other again." He opened the apartment door, Starsky following close behind.

"Hutch, did you wake me up in the middle of the night just to give me that letter?"

Hutch smiled. "No. After Trevor confessed his jealousies, and admitted telling you about them, I wanted to be sure you were okay with things."

Starsky nodded. "You worry too much." Hutch turned to leave when Starsky stopped him. "Hey Hutch? For what it's worth, I like Trevor and all, but I think he was a real fool to let you go."

Staring into Starsky's eyes, Hutch suddenly seemed at a loss for words. "Thanks," he managed to get out; then walked down the hallway.

Closing the door behind his friend, Starsky shut off the living room lights and returned to bed. Before he turned off the light in his bedroom, he slowly re-read Hutch's letter again. After finishing the intimate correspondence, he snuggled into the inviting sheets, a small smile on his lips.

 

~*~

 

Trevor walked into the squadroom to surprise Hutch. However, it was Trevor who ended up being surprised. Instead of finding him in a good mood, anxious to get off his shift, Hutch was angry and brooding, Starsky mirroring his mood.

"Something wrong?" Trevor asked.

Hutch slammed his desk drawer, and tossed a file into the mess of paperwork above it. "No. Nothing's wrong."

Starsky shoved the coffeepot roughly onto its base. "Right. Nothing. Nothing's wrong if you believe it's okay for rapists to be back on the street hours later because of a _technicality_."

"Fucking bastard shoves _himself_ into the lockup bars, and gets his lawyer to shout ‘police brutality.'" He shook his head and exclaimed, "What the hell happened to the cameras on that cell, huh? We should have video proof of his stunt!"

"Yeah, we should. But to save costs they only run one camera at a time now, rotating between the cells. The camera was on cell four, not cell two. That's why we have no proof."

"Can't they get anything off the other cameras downstairs? He also claims I didn't read him his rights!" Hutch groused. "Wait **'** til I get my hands on that slime he calls a lawyer. I'd like to personally introduce him to police brutality so next time he'll know it if he sees it."

Starsky plopped himself down in his seat and threw one sneakered foot, then the other, onto the desktop. "Casey promised me they're going to check out his injuries to see if they could be self-inflicted. Thompson and Hyzer are going over all the other tapes on the floor to see if they can find anything."

"In the meantime, that bastard is free, on the streets, and no girl between the ages of six and sixty are safe from that fucker!"

Trevor sat on the corner of Hutch's desk and draped a casual hand on his shoulder. "I have something that will help get your mind off this," he announced calmly. "You're coming with me."

"I'm not going anywhere," Hutch snapped. "I'm not in the mood."

Undaunted, Trevor squeezed Hutch's shoulder affectionately. "Trust me," he said quietly.

Hutch looked up and locked eyes with Trevor. His face and posture softened. He gave a short nod in Trevor's direction.

Trevor patted Hutch's shoulder and grinned. "Good. It's a beautiful morning and I've rented a decent car, and we're going for a little drive. I have plans for you today. Get your things."

Hutch started to get up, but caught the still smoldering look on Starsky's face. "Trevor, wait. I can't go. Starsky and I have been through a hell of a night, and I can't just..."

Trevor interrupted him with a pat to his back. "Invite him!" he declared cheerily.

Hutch raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Yeah?"

Laughing at Hutch's reaction, Trevor jumped off the desk. "Of course! The more the merrier. I guarantee I'll make you both forget about work." He confidently headed for the door, never doubting the other two would follow, but glanced back just to be sure.

Trevor watched as Hutch looked at Starsky expectantly. Starsky cocked his head and gave his partner and Trevor both a suspicious look. Trevor heard Starsky mutter under his breath, "This better not be some kind of kinky threesome he's got cooked up..."

"Starsk!" Hutch ground out a warning voice, then he chuckled. "Well, that _would_ get your mind off work." At Starsky's glare he shoved him forward to the door. "He also mentioned a decent car and a drive. I don't remember that being part of the equation the first time around."

"Yeah, well I doubt you remember all the details. You were pretty much thinking with your dick at the time."

With a well-placed sneaker to Starsky's backside, Hutch gave him the final shove out the squadroom door.

 

~*~

 

In the parking garage, Starsky stood beside Hutch, searching the sea of cars for Trevor. Suddenly a gleaming black Mercedes convertible flew around the corner and pulled up directly in front of them, Trevor smiling mischievously behind the wheel. "Hop in!" he invited.

Starsky was rooted to the spot, staring at the vehicle, his mouth agape. "Let me drive," he pleaded breathlessly. "I'm begging you."

"No, you don't," Hutch elbowed him. "You ride in the back, Evil Kneivel. We want to get wherever he's taking us in one piece."

"Aw, come on, Hutch!" Starsky whined. "I just wanna see what she's got!"

"Tell you what, Starsky," Trevor laughed. "If you're good, I'll let you drive home."

The two men jumped in the car, Starsky reluctantly in back, Hutch in front. As he sat down, Starsky asked Hutch in a wary voice, "What's he mean ‘if I'm _good'_?"

Trevor waited until they were situated comfortably, then put foot to the pedal. Screeching out of the parking lot, with the engine growling its approval, he turned to Starsky and grinned. "I'm gonna put you to _work_ , Starsky!" Starsky's face fell, and Trevor laughed, his hair flying wildly in the wind.

After a while, Starsky leaned forward in his seat, leaning his elbows on the backs of the seats before him. "Trevor," he called. "You don't want to take this exit. You'll hit all that traffic going uptown for Sal's Run."

"That's right, I forgot about that," Hutch nodded. "They're doing that marathon today. It'll be a madhouse.'

Trevor smiled. "Can't be helped," he replied. "It's early yet. Maybe it won't be so bad."

Traffic was heavy, but not nearly as bad as they anticipated. It wasn't long before Trevor moved over to take another exit.

Hutch looked at the exit sign and glanced questioningly at Trevor. He was taking the exit that led directly to the starting line for the marathon. Trevor saw his look and his smile broadened.

"Oh no," Hutch blurted.

Starsky leaned forward again, appearing between their seats. "Hey, are we going to the marathon?" he asked, obviously concerned.

"Trevor, what the hell are you doing?" Hutch snapped.

He chuckled. "Relax, it's not like I signed you up."

"What is this then?" Hutch demanded.

"Trust me," Trevor grinned.

Starsky tried not to laugh as he watched Hutch sit back rigidly in his seat, stewing in his own anger.

Trevor followed the colorful arrows that led to the center of activity for the famous marathon.

Salvatore D'Amato had been a popular basketball coach that had brought the USC Bay City Banshees to the national championships season after season during their heyday in the late sixties and early seventies. He was a wild character, able to inspire not only dedicated athletes, but their cheering fans as well. Since his retirement in the late 70s, he hadmaintained visibility as a basketball analyst for the local television station, and had taken to charity work, organizing an annual marathon known as "Sal's Run" to raise money for the Children's Hospital of Bay City. The marathon was open to anybody, and all profits from the event went directly to the Hospital. It was nationally known, greatly respected, and widely covered in the media all over the country. During its first run, it proudly boasted 4,100 runners. However, the event had grown in recent years, and now accepted over 16,000 participants from all over the nation.

Suddenly Trevor veered off from the main route to the event, taking side roads closer to the Children's Hospital. He turned into a street that was cordoned off and monitored by the Hospital security staff, and was stopped by a guard.

The guard took one look at him and burst into a huge smile. "Well I'll be! Trevor Prescott, you ol' sonofabitch! What the hell you doing here, man? I haven't seen you in years!"

"Hello Patrick!" Trevor called cheerily. "I'm here to help, and I brought some friends with me. You seen Red anywhere?"

"You betcha. He's gonna be real happy to see you. We were just talking about you the other day." He tore off a parking ticket from a huge roll, and handed one to Trevor. "You go park this right by my car, that van next to the door. Put that ticket in your window. Go in there, and Red'll be right inside. He'll get you going." Then he added, "Damn good to see you, man!"

"Good to see you too, Patrick!" Trevor said warmly. "Thanks!" He carefully parked where he was instructed and led his friends into the side door of the Children's Hospital.

Starsky had no trouble figuring out who Red was. The man stood in the center of a crowded room, tossing out orders to anyone who was available. His hair was bright red, streaked with white, and he wore a red t-shirt and red bib overalls. People jumped to his commands, and the room reflected an aura of strictly controlled chaos.

As Trevor walked in, Red caught a glimpse of him and declared, "Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Is that The Man himself? Trevor Prescott, you get in here, you little rascal!! I have a job for you!"

Trevor laughed and shook his head. "Red and I go way back," he explained to Starsky and Hutch. "I used to volunteer here every year when we were back in college, and I came back several times to help him over the years with the run. When I couldn't come back, I sent a group of friends from my church to help. I used to be sort of his right hand man, and he just took to calling me ‘The Man.'"

Starsky found it interesting to see people's reaction to Trevor. They all seemed to respond strongly to him, remembering him clearly and with great fondness, though he had been out of their lives for a very long time.

The three approached Red, and the man threw his arms around Trevor and squeezed him in a tight embrace. "I thought you weren't coming!" he exclaimed. "Your pals from XTN are here. I put ‘em right to work. But I thought you were on vacation! What the hell are you doing here?"

"I am on vacation," Trevor grinned. "But I couldn't stay away. I brought some more friends with me." He introduced Starsky and Hutch to Red, then slapped his hands together eagerly. "Whatcha got for us, Red?"

Red's eyes lit up. "Oh, my boy, I have just the thing for you. A real treat!" He put his fingers to his lips and let out a shrill whistle. "Steve! Go into my office and grab the cartons stacked behind the door. John, you help him. Bring them to The Man, pronto!"

Within a flash, the two young men came in, carrying armloads of colorful cartons. Trevor's eyes widened at the sight. "Red! You can't be serious! You love this! You can't give this to me!"

Red grinned and shook his head. "No time, Trevor, my boy. You'll have to help me out this year." He patted Trevor on the back affectionately. "Do me proud, will ya, boy?"

Trevor's eyes twinkled. "You know I will, Red. Are you sure about this?"

Red nodded. "Now go! Don't keep those rugrats waiting!" he ordered gruffly, his joy obvious on his face.

Steve and John handed the boxes off to Starsky, Hutch, and Trevor, and directed them to the elevators just down the corridor.

When they were out of earshot of Red, Starsky turned to Hutch and asked, "Bubbles?"

Hutch just shrugged in response.

Trevor must have heard and looked back at Starsky with a smile. "Red gave us the most coveted job of the marathon. It is customary to have the children, the beneficiaries of this event, blow bubbles at the beginning of the race. We've been selected to pass out the bottles of bubbles to the little kids." They stepped into the elevator as Trevor continued. "The kids can't come down to the race, so they watch from the windows; at least the ones who are able. The bubbles are their way of participating, showing their support for the runners. Wait until you see it."

Starsky grinned. If he had to be pushed into volunteering at a charity event, at least this sounded like a fun job.

They started on the top floor, passing out bubbles to every child in the hospital. The nurses were prepared, putting fans at the bedsides of the children who couldn't blow the bubbles themselves, such as the children on oxygen. For the kids unable to hold a wand in front of a fan, the nurses blew bubbles for them.

Floor to floor, they continued on their mission, followed closely behind by Steve and John, who continued to get more and more bottles of bubbles as their initial supply ran low. Finally, they had finished their task and supplied every patient in the Bay City Children's Hospital with a bottle of bubbles. They stepped out the front door of the hospital and looked up. Crowded into the windows were the youngsters, all eagerly awaiting their moment with serious patience and joyful faces. In preparation of the event, the hospital staff had removed the upper screens from the windows, leaving the glass to cover only the bottom portions of the window frames. Little hands waved their wands out the windows, but not a bubble was released early. They knew they had to wait.

Starsky scanned the starting line for the race, directly in front of the hospital's main entrance. Lined up and ready to go, the wheelchair participants were first in line, paper numbers attached to their chests and to the backs of their chairs. Behind them would be the runners, then finally the walkers would be allowed to start, each having their own official starting gun blast to start their race. Over their heads were netted arches of helium balloons, ready to be released as the guns went off, one arch for each group.

The three men walked across the street and watched the event unfold.

Starsky caught Hutch's eye. His partner was unusually silent since leaving the hospital, and Starsky understood his melancholy mood. They all had a blast visiting the children, but it was overwhelming to realize that every one of them was seriously ill. Several of the patients were dying, their lack of health quite evident on their faces. There were times during their task that one would cover for another, taking over in talking to the children while the other slipped away to wipe an eye or regain his emotions. Yet the painful moments were matched with joyful ones, as the majority of the children met them with excited smiles and unbridled enthusiasm. Now that they were finished, they could feel the enormity of emotion for what they witnessed while with the children.

Hutch gave Starsky a big smile, his eyes still a little misty. Starsky looked beyond Hutch to Trevor, who was staring up at the higher floors of the building. A single tear streaked down his face, gleaming in the late morning sun. Trevor didn't bother to hide how it affected him, now that he was out of sight of the young patients. He must have sensed Starsky's attention, and glanced his way. Starsky nodded at him, a short almost imperceptible nod. Trevor gave him a struggling smile in response, and inhaled a deep shaky breath. Starsky's smile broadened as he looked back at the building. Without speaking, they all shared a connection and a bond through their reaction to the poignant experience.

Trevor moved behind Hutch to come up between him and Starsky, his hands on both their shoulders. "Just wait," he warned.

The pre-race speeches came to a close as Trevor spoke. Over the microphone, a booming voice screamed, "On your mark, get set, **GO**!!" The starting gun fired with a startling bang.

The first arch of balloons released, and a huge shower of little bitty bubbles poured out of the hospital windows like a dancing waterfall of delicate colors. The cheering was so loud, it was deafening.

Starsky took in the sight, an unexpected thrill racing through him. "Damn!" he shouted, blown away by the vision. The little bubbles, created by the children themselves, gave unmistakable evidence of their support and participation, and their importance in the event. The effervescent waterfall caught in the wind, pouring outward and upward, symbolic of hope and optimism.

A soft sound like a choked sob caught Starsky's attention, and he turned to find Hutch's head bowed, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose between his eyes. Trevor leaned in between them, and said, "Remember, the money raised in this event all goes towards helping these kids."

As soon as there was a slow down in the action before them, Trevor dragged Starsky and Hutch to a waiting golf cart that had been carefully guarded by Steve. They jumped in and Trevor drove to an area of the hospital parking lot that was lined with small buses. The men got out and quickly boarded a bus just as it was about to leave. "We're going to a point further down on the run," he explained. "We'll see the runners come through about a third of the way into it."

The bus raced off, all of its riders strangely quiet and anticipatory. All wore pleased expressions, and all seemed eager to get to their destination. Following a path that had been blocked off for their progress by the local fire department, they quickly got to their point along the route without any traffic to slow them. Bus after bus unloaded, sending helpers dashing for the tables along the runners' path.

It quickly became clear to Starsky that they were now supposed to stand along the side of the race and pass out water to the runners. The tables were loaded with pitchers of water and thousands of paper cups, already filled and waiting. Big barrels of water sat beside the tables, in case more was needed.

At first their job was easy and slow, holding out cups to the participants as they filtered past. But a distant roar made Starsky raise his head, and he saw an enormous river of people flowing toward him, a thunderous sound accompanying it. It was almost frightening in its intensity, some 16,000 people thick, and he quickly prepared himself for the onslaught, as did the others around him. Soon, people were flying past him, ripping cups from his outstretched hand as quickly as he could replace it. Some runners just yelled "THROW IT!" and took the dash of water in the face without slowing down. Everyone did their best to accommodate the hot and thirsty athletes as they made their way to the festival grounds on the Bay City oceanfront.

Eventually the tidal wave of runners had swept past, and the group proceeded to clean up in their wake. The men worked hard, but happily. When they had finished, the waiting buses took them back to the hospital parking lot.

As they approached Trevor's car, he called out, "Starsky!" and Starsky grabbed the tossed keys he flung in his direction.

A huge grin spread across Starsky's face. He climbed in, but when Trevor was about to slide into the seat beside him, Starsky flipped it forward, and cocked his head to indicate that he get in the back next to Hutch. Trevor grinned and silently nodded his thanks in return.

Starsky flew out of the hospital parking lot and headed for the coast, playing chaperone to the two men cuddled in the back seat. He looked into the rear view mirror, watching discreetly as Hutch took hold of Trevor's hand and looked into his eyes. "Thank you," Hutch whispered to Trevor, then pulled him close for a kiss.

Starsky drew his eyes back to the road, and treated his passengers to a winding trip up the Pacific coast before eventually heading back to the city; their frustrating day at work long forgotten.

 

~*~

 

"I'm looking forward to our dinner date," Trevor happily declared into the phone.

Hutch winced. "Trevor, about that. I'm afraid I'm going to have to take a raincheck. I'm really beat."

Trevor's voice reflected his disappointment. "Are you sure? I've worked up a special surprise..."

Annoyed at being pushed, Hutch barked, "Dammit, Trevor! It's just dinner! We can do it any time." He dragged a hand down his face. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to take it out on you. I'm just really tired, and I don't feel like going out on the town."

"Okay, we won't. Tell you what. You come over whenever you're finished, and I'll take care of you. We won't go out, we'll just eat in. You can grab a shower here, and I've got clothes you can wear. Comfortable clothes."

Hutch sighed. He didn't feel like doing anything but rinsing the city's filth off his skin and sliding into a comfortable bed. Yet, he could hear the disappointment in Trevor's voice, and didn't have the heart to turn down his attempt at a compromise. "Okay. For a little while. I do miss you. Just don't expect too much from me. I'm about ready to collapse."

Trevor's voice sounded pleased. "I'll take care of you, love. Don't worry."

Hanging up the pay phone, Hutch walked back to Starsky. As he slid into the passenger seat, Starsky asked, "So'd you get out of your hot date?"

Hutch gave him a weary look. "Not exactly. I got out of going out to dinner. But I am still going to see him. We're just gonna have a quiet night."

"He's got you wrapped around his finger," Starsky razzed with a grin. "I sure hope you're getting some."

Hutch sat up in his seat. "To tell you the truth, no. I asked Trevor to move slow, and so far he hasn't made a single move on me. We've just been getting to know each other, as friends."

Starsky looked at Hutch in disbelief. "You're just _friends_?"

A small smile crept across Hutch's lips. He felt the warmth in his heart and glanced back at Starsky, the love shining in his eyes. "He's special, Starsk. I want to do this right, and he's willing to do it my way. This isn't about sex. It's about building a foundation."

"Geez, Hutch." Starsky shook his head. "With a foundation like that, you two should be able to withstand an earthquake."

"He's worth it," Hutch smiled. "We're worth it." He looked out the passenger window of Starsky's car and thought about his cross words with Trevor a short time ago. He made a mental note to stop by the florist, to remind Trevor that Hutch had been thinking about him and he was appreciated.

At nine p.m., Hutch phoned Trevor to warn him that he would not be getting out of work for at least another two hours, long after he expected. With complete understanding, Trevor assured him that the late hour would not be a problem, and to come whenever he was able. He reminded Hutch that he had a key, and told him to let himself in, just in case he was in the shower. Once again he promised a quiet evening at home, and a simple dinner from room service.

It was twenty past eleven by the time Hutch dragged himself to Trevor's door. He had showered before leaving the station, and stopped at a nearby florist to pick up a single long stem red rose to give to his date. Holding the blossom carefully in one hand, he unlocked and opened the hotel room door with the other. The apartment seemed completely dark, and he tried to flip the light switch, with no response. Immediately on alert, he pocketed the key and pulled out his gun, stealthily slipping into the darkened room. As he approached the middle of the room, his eyes had adjusted, and he saw a silhouette of Trevor sitting cross-legged on the floor, his hands resting gently on each knee. Facing the open patio door, he appeared to be in meditation.

"It's okay, love. You can put the gun away. I just took the bulb out of the light."

"Trevor?" Hutch asked bewildered, slipping his gun into its holster. It wasn't until then that he saw the candles. Dozens of little white candles flickering in their glass holders, gracing every table, desk and counter. The patio door was wide open, a breeze making the curtains dance away from the window. "What is this?"

"Sit down," Trevor quietly ordered.

Hutch looked down, confused. "What's going on?"

"Sit down."

Seeing that he wouldn't get an answer to his questions until he did, Hutch removed his jacket and gun and reluctantly sat beside him. He turned his head to watch the man at his left. Trevor was shirtless, and wore only soft, lightweight beach pants that clung loosely to his form.

Trevor smiled at him and took the rose from his hand, slipping his own hand in Hutch's, entwining their fingers. He held the blossom to his nose with his other hand, and inhaled deeply of its scent. "It's beautiful," he whispered. He then turned to look at Hutch, a peaceful smile on his lips. "Look," he nodded to the open balcony doors. "What do you see?"

Hutch followed his gaze and searched out the window. "The city skyline?"

"Look again, love."

Hutch continued to stare out the window, when his face lit with understanding. "The stars!" he exclaimed breathlessly. He wondered how he had missed the fact that the night was incredibly clear, and the sky was filled with millions of twinkling stars. It was an unusually lovely sky.

"I wanted to bring the sky in here, with us," Trevor explained.

Suddenly he understood all of the candles throughout the room, twinkling in their glasses like small earthly stars. A gentle breeze flowed through the door again, brushing the hair back from his face, filling his nose with the scent of ocean sea salt. "Amazing," was all he could manage. It was as if the stars and the evening breeze had joined them in the penthouse suite.

Trevor smiled again, closing his eyes to enjoy the feel of the wind. He looked so serene, that Hutch had a hard time tearing his eyes away.

Hutch reached out and gently grasped the thin leather strip that tied Trevor's hair into a thick ponytail. He untied the leather, releasing Trevor's hair to cascade down across his bare shoulders. Trevor shook his head, fanning his hair out further and opened his eyes. "You never did like it tied back, did you?"

"No. I like it free. Just like you."

As if Mother Nature herself agreed with Hutch, a breeze raced past them, causing Trevor's hair to dance back freely, softly settling back into place down his back.

"Beautiful," Hutch whispered, never taking his eyes off Trevor.

"Are you glad you came?" Trevor asked.

"I don't know," Hutch confessed. "I didn't expect to walk into a seduction."

Trevor laughed heartily. "Is that what you think this is?"

Puzzled, Hutch cocked his head. "Isn't it?" He glanced around the room. "Darkness, candles, starlight, half naked...and what's that? Wine?"

"Ken, I could seduce your body any time. This is about love, and comfort." He slid the tray over that Hutch had pointed at, pulling off the linen napkin that had covered it. "It's not wine. It's herbal tea. Here, have some." He poured a cup and handed it over. "Red Zinger tea, laced with honey and lemon."

Hutch took a sip and kept the cup to his nose, letting the steam warm his face. "It's very good."

Trevor got to his feet and held out a hand to Hutch. "Come here. I want to show you something."

He let him pull him to his feet, and followed him out onto the balcony. The table outside was beautifully set with candles and china and crystal. Beside the table was a serving cart, waiting patiently for its diners.

Trevor walked up to the cart and opened it. With gloved hands, he pulled out a long platter covered with a metal dome. He removed the cover, holding the dish for Hutch to see.

"Oh Trevor," Hutch said moving towards him, "I don't think I could eat some huge rich meal," he protested. But when he got closer, he stopped in his tracks, eyeing the platter before him. "What's this?"

"Meat loaf," Trevor announced.

"Meat loaf?" Hutch parroted. "This hotel serves _meat loaf?"_ It seemed completely inappropriate for the posh French dining room downstairs.

Trevor shook his head. "They don't serve it," he admitted. "I borrowed a friend's kitchen. She runs a catering business."

"You made this?" Hutch said in disbelief. "You're kidding me!"

"No I'm not," Trevor defended. "I made it. Just the way you used to like it." Then he added, "I did promise you I'd take care of you."

Hutch looked at the other dishes in the warming cart. Trevor pointed to one, identifying it as green beans, and another as mashed potatoes. "Comfort food," he mused. He finally noticed the bottle of ketchup nestled beside the Waterford crystal goblets on the table, and he smiled at the contrast.

"My friend traded me an apple pie in exchange for the meat loaf recipe," Trevor grinned. "She said it smelled heavenly." He inhaled the meatloaf's aroma, as if to test it.

"It does," Hutch agreed, his appetite returning. "I can't believe you went to all this trouble."

"There's more," Trevor said, putting the tray back into the cart and closing it up. "Follow me."

Trevor led the way back into the hotel room, and around the corner to where his temporary office was arranged. There was a large table set up there, the type used for massage. "Before you have dinner, you get a head to foot massage," he declared.

"I thought you said this wasn't about seduction," Hutch chided, knowing full well how he loved the feel of Trevor's hands on his body. This would be hard to resist.

"It's not," Trevor insisted. "That's why I hired a professional to give you the massage. Patty is on call, and will perform the massage as soon as you are ready. I paid her well to free up her night, just for us."

Hutch's mouth dropped open. "You what?"

"I booked a masseuse," Trevor replied defiantly. "Quite frankly, I didn't trust myself, and this isn't about me, it's about taking care of you."

Hutch reached out and grabbed Trevor, roughly pulling him into his arms. "Call Patty," he snarled. "Cancel. _You're_ giving me this massage tonight." He passionately kissed Trevor, before the man squirmed back.

"I thought you wanted to take things slow," Trevor reminded him.

"Oh, we'll go slow," Hutch said, his voice sultry and smooth as he kissed down Trevor's neck. "Long...and...slow ...very slow," he whispered. "Just the way _you_ like it."

"Damn it, Ken!" Trevor gasped. He tried to pretend anger, but he wasn't carrying it off. "I went to a lot of trouble to _avoid_ seduction and go straight for pampering, and you're screwing up all my hard work!"

Hutch slid his hands over Trevor's ass. "I do feel pampered, and loved," he murmured. "And all your hard work has made _me_ hard." For emphasis, he pulled Trevor's hips to his own, their erections crushed together in a pleasurable cinch.

Trevor suddenly pushed Hutch backwards, roughly, until he trapped him against the wall. His voice was hoarse with emotion and desire as he forcefully pinned Hutch in place. "You had better be pretty damn sure!" he warned. "I don't want you regretting this tomorrow. If you have any doubts here, this is your last chance to get your ass out that door. I mean it, Ken! Leave now! I won't be angry. But don't you lay a goddamn finger on me, if you don't want this with all your heart!"

Hutch smiled, his eyes dark with desire. He wasn't used to a lover being so physically aggressive with him, and Trevor's ability to pin him to the wall was exciting the hell out of him. "I love you," he said in answer. "Love me, Trevor, and let me love you. God, I want you! I've wanted you since the night I first laid eyes on you. I'd promise you my heart, but you already own it. You always have."

Trevor released him, and stepped back. He was silenced by Hutch's words, the fight gone out of him.

Hutch stepped up, taking Trevor's face in his hands. "I'm not leaving," he whispered. "No regrets. No doubts. I want you, Trevor, with all my heart." He captured Trevor's lips in a soft, deep kiss. "Love me, Trevor. Make love to me."

He slipped a hand down and pulled on the drawstring of Trevor's pants, releasing its tentative hold. Pushing the fabric down with a smooth touch, Hutch then slipped Trevor's underwear down, leaving the man standing naked before him.

Hutch stroked his thumb along Trevor's jaw, his eyes roving over the man's body appreciatively. "You're so beautiful," he whispered.

Trevor slowly undressed Hutch, sliding his hands beneath his shirt to guide it away. Instead of feeling the clothing removed, Hutch felt the hot touch of Trevor's hands, always between the cloth and himself, sliding across his flesh in precedence of the fabric. He had turned the simple task of undressing into something sensual, and enticing.

Finally they stood together in each other's embrace, the feel of naked skin rejoicing in the touch of the other. "I love you," Trevor whispered. "Come to my bed."

Hutch followed his beckoning lover, and joined him in the bedroom. A heated kiss welcomed his arrival, and drew him onto the bed. Trevor was kissing him, running his hands over his body, caressing his already steely shaft. Hutch rolled his lover onto his back and pulled slightly away from him, needing to escape from that lovely touch before he lost control. "I'm close," he whispered in explanation. "It's been a long time, and you're exciting the hell out of me."

Smiling, Trevor said, "I love that I can still incite such a reaction from you." He forced Hutch onto his back once more. "I'll take care of you," he promised again. He slid down between Hutch's legs, taking his erection into his mouth; he moaned as if blissful at the feel of Hutch's glans against his tongue, as though he had an acute need for his taste.

Hutch groaned, a sound that apparently delighted Trevor. His tongue slid down Hutch's shaft, quickly bring him to rigidness, teasing at the pulsing veins with the tip of his tongue, letting the back of his tongue tease at the sensitive spot just below the head.

Hutch gasped, grasping at the sheets, balling the fabric into his hands, struggling to hang on and not fall into rapture. Trevor licked and sucked, sliding further down his turgid shaft until he had taken his full length down his throat.

The way Trevor pleasured him made Hutch feel worshiped, as if the man couldn't get enough of him. Hutch's hips thrust forward involuntarily, his whole body alive with pleasure and joy.

Trevor buried his nose into the hairs so low at his belly, lightly stroking though the fine strands with the tip of his nose, the swirling movement of his head deliciously stimulating Hutch's shaft in his throat. "Oh yes!" he shouted, pulled into a level of excitement that only Trevor had ever been able to bring him to. Hutch could feel his legs begin to tremble, the pleasurable tension an overwhelming struggle for his body to hang onto. He tried to hold on, bearing the exquisite torture as long as he could. Trevor fondled his balls, gently squeezing and stroking them, his finger rubbing that spot, just behind, that tantalized him so. He cried out, yelling Trevor's name, unable to hold back anymore.

The sensations finally drowned Hutch, sending his body into a tidal wave of orgasm. Trevor drank his pleasure until his body was over-sensitized by the powerful climax that had passed through him. Hutch pulled him up and embraced him against his chest, holding him tightly as his heart pounded, the beat very gradually slowing its pace.  Trevor had simply clung to Hutch while Hutch caressed his head, his shoulder, his arm, soaking in the delight he felt having Trevor in his arms and in his bed again.

Hutch wanted to give to Trevor, give him the same elation that he felt, give him the same mind blowing pleasure he had just received. He tugged at Trevor's arm, insistently pulling him up kissing him, whispering to him. Trevor was so drunk on his passion, he didn't seem to register that Hutch was pleading with him. "Trevor, make love to me..." he whispered. "I want you, please!" Finally Trevor understood him and smiled.

Hutch rejoiced as Trevor kissed him with a ravenous hunger, his hand gliding teasingly over Hutch's entrance. Trevor stroked and prepared him carefully, and Hutch fought to remain patient, knowing this could be difficult for him after his long abstinence from this form of coupling. But his body was aching for Trevor with a deep insatiable hunger that no one else had ever stirred in him. He tried to hurry Trevor, but he resisted.

"Shhh, my love," he whispered back. "Let me enjoy this. Let me make it good for you."

Trevor had taken his time until he felt confident that Hutch's body had been thoroughly readied, and took position above him. Hutch locked eyes with him as Trevor slid in slowly, tenderly, penetrating not only the man, but his soul as well.

"Trevor!" Hutch gasped, enfolding his legs around the man's hips. The sensation of his lover, deep within, left him awestruck. He felt his own masculinity rise up and engulf them both, and he instinctively wrapped his arms around Trevor, pulling him into himself physically and spiritually. A soft whimper reached his ears, his own voice unrecognizable to him, as he looked at Trevor's face, tears stinging his own eyes.

Trevor touched his face, his expression mirroring the loving adoration Hutch felt. "Are you alright?" he breathlessly asked.

Hutch choked on a sob and a laugh. "No," he panted. "I'm completely overwhelmed by you...your body...your love..." The ability to speak deserted him and he reached out to touch Trevor's face. He jerked his hand away when he felt dampness there, and a drop that fell against his finger.

Trevor grabbed Hutch's hand and drew it back to his face, nuzzling his wet cheek into the palm. He kissed his hand there. Hutch threw his arms around Trevor once again, this time gently, as he felt a shudder run through the man's body.

Pulling back, Trevor slowly withdrew from Hutch and prepared to penetrate him once again. A quiet, mournful sound escaped Hutch's lips. Trevor quickly entered him again, slowly sinking into his body as Hutch dug his fingernails into his back.

Trevor moved with the grace of a panther, his actions controlled and deliberate, and enthralling to Hutch. When Trevor drew his legs higher, he had positioned himself precisely so that his body's strokes kept constant pressure on that sweet spot within Hutch. Hutch felt that completion he yearned for, that moment of bliss and excitement, that moment of reverence he felt, here with Trevor's body and heart merged with his own in a profound expression of love.

He watched in wonder as Trevor reached orgasm, his movement suddenly stilled by the force of it. Hutch caught him in his arms as Trevor crumpled, emotionally and physically spent, onto his chest.

Hutch pulled the sheet and blanket around them, cocooned into their warmth. He nestled Trevor within his arms, cradling him protectively. They both fell asleep quickly, never moving from their tangled position.

 

~*~

 

Starsky was weary after a physically draining day at work. He and Hutch had both been run ragged, chasing after a snitch that gave them bogus information. Sam "Zapper" Zapranski was wiry and fast, and led them on a goose chase over half his neighborhood. It had been worth the effort, however. By the time they caught up with him, he was so frightened by their persistence, he happily gave up the goods on who had paid him to feed them the lies, and how to find him. That particular rat was enjoying the view of a twelve by twelve cell tonight.

Still aching from the chase, and feeling like his lungs were burning from the extra effort, Starsky dragged his sweaty t-shirt over his head. The rest of his clothes peeled off easily as well, though he felt some surprise that they didn't stand up on their own. He climbed into the shower and let the spray cleanse the city filth off his skin. The shower was very hot, and helped loosen up his sore muscles. By the time he stepped out again, he felt renewed.

In the bedroom, he pulled on the most comfortable clothes he could find. The sweatshirt bore enough holes to make it nearly indecent to wear in society, but he didn't plan on seeing any people tonight. Hutch and Trevor were enjoying a private dinner date, and he had the evening to himself.

The thought of Hutch and Trevor made him think of the letter Trevor had copied for him, and he pulled it up from the nightstand. His eyes scanned the words again, bringing a soft smile to his lips. The letter was certainly different than the letters Hutch wrote to him. He thought about those letters, and wondered if he could still find them.

An hour later, he was sitting cross-legged on his bedroom floor, a half dozen small boxes scattered around him that had been pulled down from the shelves in his closet. He finally located the treasure he sought, and had spent a great deal of time reading over Hutch's old letters. Sometimes they were difficult to read. They often reminded him of a time in his life that he would just as soon forget, but at least the words did not usually refer to Nam specifically, nor to the events that still haunted his memories. Instead, they were filled with college and youthful dreams and home.

One letter looked a little more worn than the others, and he opened it with a grin. He remembered this letter. He got it a couple weeks after his birthday. It spoke of family and friendship, the very heart of what was important to him during that difficult time. Handling it with reverent care, he read once again the words that he had clung to so many years ago.

_Dear Starsky,_

_I hope by now you've gotten the care package I sent for your birthday. Try not to eat all that candy in one sitting, will you? I hope you like that Louis L'Amour book. (Randy from down the hall said it was pretty good). I thought that trivia book looked interesting and might be fun to share with your buddies in the platoon. The Tang and Kool Aid were supposed to remind you of home. The pictures are supposed to remind you of me._

_I was really depressed on your birthday. I've never been around for one of your birthdays. It doesn't seem fair that I can't even take you out on the town, or surprise you with a cake, or get you something special and see the look on your face when you open it. This really had me down. In fact, I did something you probably won't believe. I called your mom._

_I don't know why I did it. I guess I just needed to hear your voice, and make some kind of connection with you. But there aren't any phones in the jungle, so I did the next best thing._

_Your mom was so surprised! She seemed to get a real kick out of it. I told her who I was and how I really wanted to talk to you, and how I guessed she might be feeling the same. She understood exactly what I meant, and was pleased I called her. She asked me all about school, and warned me to keep my grades up. She didn't want me to get drafted, too._

_I told her about a candlelight vigil in honor of the soldiers that I wanted to attend. It was being held on the campus Friday night, right in front of the Student Union. She was very excited about that, and told me she would light a candle too, and put it in the window of her apartment. The vigil was very moving. I was standing there with my candle surrounded by hundreds of other students with candles; the crowd filling that whole lawn all the way to the Psyc building. There was a rabbi and a priest, and ministers from other faiths, all saying prayers and leading us in song. I've never seen that happen before, where differing faiths joined together for one purpose. It was quite impressive. I was there alone, but I felt like I was connected with everyone there, and with your mom, knowing she was lighting a candle back home. That night on the phone, she told me that with all of us caring about you and lighting candles for you, you were bound to feel it all the way to Viet Nam. I doubt you could feel it, but maybe it will make you feel good to hear about it._

_Your mom and I talked about you and shared some of the stories you mentioned in your letters about where you were and what you were up to. At some point I guess I got sort of quiet, because she asked me if I was worried about you. (Of course I was worried. I'm always worried about you.) She told me to try not to worry so much, that she knew you were going to be okay. She said you were just like your father, fighting to make this world a better place, and that she believed your father was watching over you right now, protecting you and keeping you safe. She talked about how strong and courageous you both were, and how smart. Careful, too. She said you were wiser and more careful than your father was. She said, "If anybody can get through Viet Nam in one piece, it's my Davey."_

_I can't tell you how good it was to hear that. Not that she said anything I didn't know. I already knew you were intelligent and brave and careful. But just hearing someone else verify it gave me an extra lift, as if someone else sees you the same way I do. And it was great to hear someone so certain of your survival skills._

_I do still worry about you. Sometimes my fear seems to get the best of me. Just stay careful, buddy. Don't take any crazy chances. Your mom needs you. I need you._

_Stay safe._

_Love,_

_Hutch_

 

Starsky felt the sting in his eyes, just as he had the first time he read it. He squeezed his eyes shut, still touched by the words of his friend. It was surprising enough to find out that his best friend had called his mother, but to have his mother comparing him to his father, and Hutch agreeing without reservation, just floored him. Friends didn't come any better than Hutch.

_And you can't possibly read that and not know Ken loves you._

Unexpectedly, Trevor's words echoed in his head. Starsky frowned. He looked down at the page, suddenly uncertain about what he had just read. He lifted the page higher and scrubbed at his eyes with his shirtsleeve. As he read, certain phrases seemed to jump out at him.

_I was really depressed on your birthday... I can't even take you out on the town...I called your mom...I needed to hear your voice...make some kind of connection with you...I'm always worried about you...I already knew you were brave and intelligent and careful...someone else sees you the same way I do...don't take any crazy chances...I need you..._

_I need you._

Starsky smiled. Had it been any other man writing these words to him, he may have questioned it. Somehow it never seemed unusual to hear them from Hutch.

_That is **not** a brotherly love. He **adores** you. He loves you._

Again Trevor's remarks rang in his ears, this time more loudly. Starsky pulled the stack of letters closer, and began to re-read what he had already opened. Other sentiments jumped out at him.

_...Your last letter sounded so depressed. I can't believe you assumed I would move on with life and forget you. Don't you realize that I value your friendship more than that? Don't you know that you bring out things in me that I never thought I had?_

_... I cherish your friendship and your personality- they brighten every day you are a part of. How can I live without you in my life? You are too much a part of me. It would be like asking me to quit breathing..._

_...You are I are like family, we are closer than brothers, and I love you more than you'll ever know. Believe me, buddy. You are not forgotten! You are definitely missed. And I'm going to jump on the next plane to Da Nang to kick your sorry ass if you don't start having a little more faith in your friends! Got it? Have faith in me..._

_I love you more than you'll ever know..._

Starsky continued to go through the letters, one by one. No longer did Trevor's words seem so farfetched. There was evidently more here than he originally read, and he wondered why it never occurred to him that Hutch's letters revealed more than just a standard friendship. There was certainly deep affection, and definitely concern and devotion. And there was love. Lots of pure, unmasked love.

Over the years, he had come to accept that their relationship was unique, and that few people would ever understand it. They had both come to expect misunderstandings from others, and responded to them with indifference, or even amusement. Starsky had never even considered the possibility of truth in their remarks. There was no reason to examine the relationship that closely. It's perfect the way it is.

But now there was something else in these pages, daring Starsky to look at it in the sunlight. He knew had anyone else spoken to him the way Hutch always had, he would have questioned it - challenged it. Why did it never seem odd to hear it expressed by Hutch?

Starsky knew the answer to that, and he smiled at its simplicity. It never seemed strange to hear Hutch speak of love or need, because there was never a single thing Hutch could say that Starsky couldn't say right back to him. Hutch had never felt anything for Starsky that Starsky couldn't return in full. That's the way it had been from the moment they met. And it was more true today.

Looking back, Starsky wondered what their relationship really was. It wasn't an ordinary friendship. Their closeness had always been unusual and immersive. It wasn't a sexual relationship, but in some ways they were closer than some married couples they knew. Starsky couldn't help but wonder if the reason neither of them had ever married was because they had satisfied all their needs, except the sexual, with each other. Women invariably were placed second in importance, behind their partner. Starsky began to question if they had both subconsciously fought to preserve the sanctity of their relationship, at the expense of potential spouses, because their partnership was invariably more valuable and more vital to them.

Gathering up the letters, he placed them in a box and set it on his bed. He wished he could call Hutch and ask him to come over, but he was busy with Trevor. The thought saddened him, and he crawled across the bed to stretch out, his arm cradled protectively around the box. His mind was crowded with memories and images, and the words seemed to float in front of his vision to taunt him with more questions.

As the cool evening breeze crept into the apartment, Starsky contemplated his definition of friendship, and his definition of love.

 

~*~

 

Starsky led the way down the long path into the forest preserve, picnic basket in hand. Hutch took Trevor's hand as they followed a short distance behind, giving his lover a secret smile. He loved that they had a few minutes of privacy where they could be openly affectionate, before joining the rest of the group at the picnic site. Trevor lifted their hands to his lips, placing a gentle kiss, soft as a promise, on the back of Hutch's hand. Hutch's smile broadened.

"Who's going to be here?" Trevor asked.

"Huggy said a lot of the group from The Pits. Waitresses, bartenders, cooks and such. This is like a company picnic. It should be fun."

Hutch noted that Starsky had disappeared around a bend in the path, and was out of sight, so he seized the opportunity to surprise the man beside him. He quickly pulled Trevor into his arms, and into a smoldering kiss. Hutch grinned as Trevor returned the gesture with complete enthusiasm, throwing his arms around Hutch's neck and pressing his body close.

"Aren't you afraid someone will see us?" Trevor questioned, glancing up the path to see if they were being followed.

"I'll take my chances," Hutch replied, caressing Trevor's lips with his own. Threading his fingers into the thick hair at Trevor's nape, he grasped the hair firmly but gently, holding the man's head in place as he plundered his lips once again.

"Damn, Ken!" Trevor gasped. "You want me to walk into this party with a hard on?"

"Just a taste of what's to come later," Hutch murmured as he kissed down Trevor's neck. He had a distinct urge to take a taste of the man's throat.

Starsky's distant, yet impatient, voice broke his reverie. "Hey, you two get lost?"

Trevor broke free from Hutch's embrace a split second before Starsky reappeared from around the bend in the path.

"We're coming," Hutch called to him. "We, um, just got distracted for a minute."

Hutch thought Starsky looked a little embarrassed. "Oh, sorry." He grinned and cocked a thumb over his shoulder. "It isn't much further," he told them. "There's another turn in the path just before you come up to the clearing."

Hutch looked apologetically to Trevor, wishing they had just a few more minutes to themselves. "You ready?" he asked.

"Not really," Trevor grinned, "but I think I will be by the time I get there." He grabbed Hutch's hand with an affectionate squeeze and headed directly toward Starsky. "Lead the way, Starsky." Trevor gave Hutch a sideways glance and asked in a playful voice, "Go easy on me?"

"Not on your life," Hutch declared rebelliously, winking at his companion. Trevor groaned.

As they approached the final turn in the path, Trevor released Hutch's hand and drifted further abreast of him. The move bothered Hutch, though he couldn't quite pinpoint why. He knew the only reason Trevor established distance between them was to avoid undo attention to their clandestine relationship, something he himself also diligently protected. But he couldn't help feel slightly annoyed. Everyone seemed to be drifting away from him lately. Instantly he moved closer to Trevor and hung his arm casually over his shoulder in a platonic but companionable fashion, just as they came into the clearing. He managed to maintain their physical proximity while still appearing to be no more than good friends. Pointing over toward the oversized grill, Hutch said, "There's Huggy."

The three men approached Huggy and said their hellos before finding a picnic table to set up. Starsky had insisted on bringing the basket and Hutch wondered why. "Starsk, why'd you bring food? Huggy told us he had everything we'd need."

Grinning, Starsky shook his head. "Isn't food," he informed him. He flipped open the container's lid to reveal his supplies. There was a bottle of very expensive scotch and a carefully wrapped rocks glass nestled in the basket. "Huggy said he was bringing plenty of beer and soft drinks, but I know Trevor's not a beer man."

Trevor laughed at Starsky's good natured tease. "Thanks, Starsky. You didn't have to do that."

Starsky jokingly rubbed the knuckles of his fisted left hand and shook it out as if it still pained him. "Oh yes I did." Then he winked in Trevor's direction. "Come to think of it," Starsky added, "there _is_ a little food in here. But I was asked to bring it."

Hutch got a good look at the bottle and noted the brand of Scotch was Trevor's favorite, and a very pricey beverage. He was touched that his partner would be so thoughtful toward his lover. Catching Starsky's eye, he gave him an appreciative look, and clasped his friend on the shoulder. "That was nice of you, Starsk." He gestured his head in the direction of the bottle.

Starsky quickly pulled a large bag of nacho chips from the basket, along with a covered container. He slipped out of Hutch's hand and backed from the table, announcing, "I promised Huggy I'd bring him my fiery salsa, so I whipped him up a batch. I'll be right back," and he scooted away from the table.

He disappeared so quickly, Hutch just stood there with his hand suspended in the air for a moment before letting his arm drop dejectedly down to his side. "He did it again," he muttered in agitation.

"Did what?" Trevor asked, pouring himself a drink. "Something wrong?"

Hutch furrowed his brow. "I don't know." Then he nodded his head vigorously, declaring, "Yeah! Yeah, something's wrong. I don't know what the hell's going on, but I'm going to find out!"

"What's up?" Trevor asked, concern evident in his voice.

"Starsky. He's been acting strange all week, and it's driving me nuts. I'm gonna have a word with him and see if I can get to the bottom of this."

Trevor put down his drink and came up next to Hutch. He turned and sat on the picnic table, his feet on the bench. With his hands clasped in front of him in a patient posture, he waited. "Strange how?"

Exasperated, Hutch complained, "He's been real distant lately, physically. If I touch him, he moves away from me. He acts like I'm intruding if I get too close. I don't get it! We've always been pretty physical with each other. Why would he suddenly back off from me like this? We haven't been arguing or anything. In fact, he seems happy, not like he's upset. I don't know what's going on, but it's driving me nuts!"

Trevor's expression changed from concerned to serious. "How long has this been going on?"

Hutch turned around to sit on the table beside Trevor. "I don't know. A while. It's affecting the way we work together, too. He's not acting like himself, and I can't predict his moves anymore. I feel like I'm working with a stranger, and it's throwing me off. I mean, he talks to me like everything is the same, but he just keeps this distance between us."

Trevor bowed his head. "Ken, we've talked about the kind of reaction you might get from your friends..."

Hutch's head shot up. "What? No! Not Starsky. I can't believe that."

Trevor took in a deep breath. "I didn't think I'd lose most of my friends either."

Fear raced down Hutch's spine. "Trevor, he's my _best friend!_ He's not going to throw everything away because of who I sleep with. He's my friend."

"In a perfect world, that's how it should work. But not everyone is going to accept your relationship with me. You _will_ lose friends. You will have family turn their back on you. I'm sorry, I wish I could tell you it isn't going to happen, but you know it will."

Hutch rubbed a hand down his face in disbelief. Now that he thought about it, Starsky had been acting like this ever since he told him that he and Trevor had resumed their relationship. "Damn it!" he ground out, partly in frustration, partly in anger. He folded his hands together so tightly, his knuckles whitened. Trevor's warm hand on his shoulder gave him an instant measure of comfort, and he reached up and patted the gentle hand.

"Hey Hutch!" Huggy called out, "Can you give me a hand here?" He was standing in front of the grill with two platters, and no place to set one down.

"Sure, Hug," Hutch called back. He patted Trevor's hand once again then rose to go to Huggy's aid. The understanding look in Trevor's eyes nearly broke his heart. He didn't want Trevor to understand. He wanted his best friend back. He wanted Trevor to be wrong about Starsky.

Shaking off the hurt and betrayal Starsky's actions had sparked in him, he distracted himself by helping Huggy. He held a platter as Huggy loaded his own with burgers, and Hutch's with hot dogs and brats. They chatted as Hutch assisted him in bringing the food to the table and helping him reload the grill with more meat. "I'm glad Trevor could make it," Huggy remarked. "Looks like he's gonna make Bay City his home, huh?"

Hutch frowned. Huggy's mention of Trevor made him wonder if there was anybody who would accept his relationship with him. "Uh, yeah. He's gotten a few offers for jobs. Sounds like he's seriously considering one of them."

Huggy gave him a puzzled look. "Seems like you'd be happier, having your boyfriend move back to town."

The package of brats that Hutch was trying to open suddenly flew out of Hutch's hands and ricocheted off the front of the grill before landing at their feet. Hutch's head shot up, and he stared at Huggy in complete shock. "What did you just say?"

Huggy laughed and bent down to pick up the package Hutch had fumbled so ungracefully. "I said, I thought you'd be happy to have your boyfriend move back to town. Whatsa matter? Trouble in paradise?"

Glancing around to be sure no one was within earshot, Hutch turned his attention back to his friend at the grill. "You _know_?"

Huggy gave an indignant snort. "Of course I know. The Bear makes a habit of knowing what's going down." A wise nod, accompanied by a wink, emphasized his words. "I keep my ear to the ground and my eyes peeled. Don't look so surprised. You pay me to know everything that happens in this here neck of the woods."

"But how--," Hutch stammered. "Did Starsky tell you?"

"Hell no," Huggy replied. "You know Curly'd never give up the goods on you." He smiled mischievously. "I don't just keep my ear to the ground. I also keep my ear to my office window when I hear my two bros are close to blows in my alley."

Huggy's words sank in and Hutch grinned, slightly embarrassed. Huggy had overheard them the night Starsky had punched Trevor in the jaw.  Hutch chuckled and shook his head. He reached up and gave Huggy's shoulder a squeeze as he snatched the package of brats back out of his hands. "Huggy, you're too much."

"Um hmm. And you love me anyway."

Finally managing to wrestle the package of brats open, Hutch handed the open pack back to his friend. "In answer to your question, yes, I'm very happy my boyfriend is moving back to town. Now tell me, are you going to be okay with this?"

Huggy gave him a look that made Hutch wonder if he had just sprouted a second head. "Why wouldn't I be okay? It ain't none of my business who you get horizontal with."

Hutch smiled. "Thanks, Hug. I really needed to hear that right now."

Huggy stopped loading the grill and turned to Hutch. "Hutch, you're with friends, man. Nobody here's gonna give you any shit. Anybody says a bad word and they deal with me." He paused a moment then asked, "Did somebody give you grief?"

"No, no. Nobody said anything, Hug." He stared after Starsky who was now embroiled in a combative game of Frisbee golf with several Pits employees. "I'm just not sure Starsky is taking this all too well."

"Starsky?" Huggy's eyebrows shot up. "Sounded to me like he was gonna be behind you no matter what."

"I thought so too," Hutch answered dejectedly. "Maybe he just needs more time."

Huggy nodded and went back to his task of turning the items on his grill. "Sometimes you gotta give people a little time to get used to things. Starsky'll come around. He'd never let you down."

Starsky's voice calling Trevor caught Hutch's attention. He turned to see his partner flagging Trevor over to join in the Frisbee golf game. Trevor shot Hutch a surprised look, then ran over to replace a player who was complaining of a sore shoulder. Starsky welcomed Trevor to the game with a friendly slap to the back.

A pang of envy surged through Hutch. He had not received so much as a pat on the back from his partner in over a week, and he missed the familiar gestures. The lack of touch made Hutch ache with longing for the closeness he'd lost.

"Looks like Starsky's making a step in the right direction," Huggy declared.

Hutch nodded. He remembered the Scotch that his friend had brought as well. "He's making an effort," Hutch agreed. "Maybe we just need to talk and work out some of the rough spots."

"Why don't you go watch the game," Huggy suggested. "I got this covered now. Thanks for the hand."

"No, Huggy. Thank _you_." Hutch patted him on the back and walked over to the food table. He made up several hot dogs and brats, and brought the food over to Starsky and Trevor. Starsky was in a great mood, even though the opponents were playing far better than he and Trevor. It was all in fun, and he was a good natured sport. Trevor proved to play fairly well, for a beginner, and his efforts were praised by other participants.

Seeing everyone have such a wonderful time was quite encouraging to Hutch. The panicky fear that had gripped him earlier began to melt away. Perhaps he had been imagining things with Starsky. After all, he was obviously going to great lengths to make the man feel welcome and comfortable with this group.

The game was nearing completion, and Hutch watched in fascination as they tossed the Frisbees at the odd looking targets. They consisted of a pole with chain links, funneling down to a wire basket, to help guide the thrown discs downward into the metal nest. It took great skill with throwing to be successful at the game, aiming the Frisbees with the intent to curve, lift or drop, according to each target's placement. Starsky and Trevor were not particularly skilled, but they were having so much fun that their amusement was contagious.

At the end of the play, Hutch joined up with his companions and threw one arm over Trevor's shoulder, and attempted to throw the other arm over Starsky's for the walk back. Starsky however sidestepped his gesture and walked ahead of them both. Hutch's anger flared, hurt and confused over Starsky's snub. "Starsky!" he called out, letting his arm slip from Trevor's shoulder. Starsky turned and walked back to Hutch cheerfully. Had he simply stopped and waited for Hutch to catch up, Hutch would have moved abreast of him, but his return prevented Hutch from getting that close, a move that did not go unnoticed by his partner. "Can I speak to you? Alone?" Hutch asked.

"Sure," Starsky answered, his good cheer apparently only slightly lessened.

Trevor said, "I'm going to head back with them. I'll see you back at the table." He touched Hutch on the arm, then jogged ahead to catch the other players returning to the picnic grounds.

Starsky faced Hutch. "Something wrong?"

Trying to rein in his fury, Hutch announced. "I want to know what the hell is going on!"

Looking confused, Starsky replied, "What do you mean?"

"You! You've been keeping this distance between us, and I'm not gonna allow it! What is the problem here? You afraid to come in contact with your faggot partner?"

Starsky's jaw dropped. "Hutch! It's not like that--"

Hutch gritted his teeth. "Don't play me for a fool, pal. I've got eyes. I see you pull away any time I reach out for you. I see you walk ahead so I can't walk beside you. You never touch me anymore. You sit as far away as you can in the car. Don't tell me it's not like that! I'm not blind!"

Starsky reached out and grabbed Hutch by both arms. "Hutch! You don't understand! Yeah, okay, I've been keeping my distance. But it's not what you think!"

The firm grip Starsky had on his arms nearly overwhelmed Hutch, after being denied his touch for so long. "You've been acting like this since you found out I'm sleeping with Trevor. If it's not what I think, then what the hell is it?"

Starsky was breathing hard, holding onto Hutch tightly. Hutch could see Starsky's eyes blazing. "I'm backing off _out of respect_ for Trevor, not out of disgust that you're sleeping with him!"

Hutch froze. "What?"

Starsky took a deep breath. "Trevor said he was jealous! I've been trying to give you guys some space! Be supportive! I was trying to _help_!"

Hutch sagged with relief. "Oh my God," he muttered. "I thought-" He shook his head. "I thought you were avoiding me. If you were doing this for Trevor, why didn't you stop when he wasn't around?"

Starsky's hands loosened, but did not let go. "Geez, Hutch. I'm so used to just reaching for you, if I didn't stop completely, I'd keep doing it."

"Well, stop!" Hutch demanded. "Quit distancing yourself. You've never done this for any of the women I dated, so don't start doing it now. You're making me crazy!"

"Thank God," he blurted. "I didn't think I could keep this up much longer. It's making me crazy, too." He chuckled. "I miss you! You don't know how many times I wanted to just say ‘fuck it' and grab you!" Releasing Hutch's sleeves, he kept staring at his arms, brushing at them as if he were knocking away imaginary lint. Hutch thought Starsky looked like he hated to release him.

Laughing, Hutch reached for him. "I miss you, too." He pulled Starsky into an embrace, clutching him fiercely to his chest. Feeling Starsky return his hug just as tightly, he felt peace return. "Don't ever do something like this again." He planted a sound kiss on the top of his head.

Starsky pulled back a little and looked up at him. "Did you just kiss me?"

"Yes, and I'll do it again," Hutch replied defiantly, pulling Starsky's head close and placing a noisy smooch right in the middle of his forehead. "Why? You want me to kiss you on the lips?"

A devilish grin turned up the corners of his lips. "No, but you can kiss my ass," he shot back as he turned to walk back to the picnic grounds, a cocky swagger in his walk.

Hutch trotted forward to catch up to him. "Careful. I could take you up on that," he warned. He threw an arm around Starsky's shoulders, pulling him against his side as they walked.

Starsky put his arm around Hutch. "Slut."

 

~*~

 

Starsky sat down at the picnic table across from Trevor. He had a Cheshire grin, and delight sparkling in his eyes. "I'm getting too old for this," he chuckled, referring to the game of flag football he had just limped away from. Starsky wasn't really injured, just feeling outmatched by the young workers of the Pits. His muscles and lungs were reminding him that it was time for a break.

He and Hutch had played on opposing teams, but still had found their own familiar sync working to its fullest. He knew exactly what to expect from Hutch, but was not at an advantage against him since Hutch had that same perfect read of Starsky. What resulted was an ideal match up between them, and an extremely spirited rivalry. It was exciting, and incredibly fun. Their humor and their competitive natures made them natural leaders with their respective teams.

Starsky looked back over his shoulder just in time to see Hutch get playfully swamped by three young kids, conveniently forgetting that it was flag, not full contact, football. They did not tackle with intent to hurt. Instead they effectively swung him to the ground, then piled on top of him in fun. They were all laughing riotously, with Hutch crying ‘foul' with mock indignation. Starsky laughed, then turned back to see Trevor's reaction to Hutch's tackle. He stopped short when he saw the sober look on Trevor's face. "Something wrong?" he asked the other man.

Trevor met his eyes, and the expression caught Starsky off balance. Trevor looked serious, and intense, and this intensity was directed straight at Starsky. "Today has been an eye opener, Starsky," Trevor began quietly, continuing to stare right through him.

Starsky shifted slightly under the unexpected scrutiny, sitting up straighter. Trevor was a man of power, and that power was wrapped solidly around him as he spoke to Starsky in a challenging tone. "Eye opener? How?" Starsky questioned, unconsciously taking a deep breath and puffing out his chest.

"I've never been witness to how you and Hutch interact. I've never seen the two of you together, without you holding back."

Understanding dawned on Starsky. Since he and Hutch had spoken after the Frisbee golf game, they had both been very happy, very physical, and somewhat mindless of observers, including Trevor. It must have been a rather startling revelation to him, and something to enflame his confessed jealousies. This was familiar ground to Starsky, who had been challenged before by one of Hutch's dates who'd been slighted. "Yeah, me and Hutch are tight," Starsky conceded. "He's the closest friend I got." He hoped the mention of friendship would be enough of a reminder to Trevor that their friendship was limited to just that: friendship.

Neither Trevor's mood, nor his riveted glare, eased under Starsky's gentle reminder. "I underestimated you," Trevor announced with finality.

Starsky didn't bother to hide a smug grin. "A lot of people do." This little chat was giving him the feeling of being interrogated, and it didn't sit well. He fought to keep in mind that Trevor was bound to feel some surprise in seeing them so openly demonstrative, particularly when he was forbidden to express his own feelings with the same freedom. "But I'm not in competition with you, Trevor. I'm Hutch's friend, that's all."

A wry smile crossed Trevor's face. He continued to pin Starsky down with his eyes. "I know Hutch still loves you. I can see that. What I didn't expect to see was those same feelings reflected _in you_." His chin lifted slightly, defiantly. "You love him, don't you." It was not a question. It was an accusation.

Starsky took another deep breath to restore his calm. "I know today must've been hard on you. Especially when you've never seen how we are. But we're not lovers, Trevor."

"Yes, that's right. You're _like_ _brothers_." His voice did not mask the irritation that this analogy sparked in him.

Starsky's voice became quiet and menacing. "You know what that means to me? It means I love him, no matter what. I take what he dishes out. I stand behind him. I defend him when no one else will. He can trust me. I'm not gonna walk, if things get tough. He's my family. I love him."

"Unconditionally," Trevor stated.

"Right. Unconditionally."

Trevor shook his head. "You know, I can't figure out whether you're really all that innocent about what's going on between the two of you, or if you planned this stunt of 'backing off to be supportive' because you knew damn well what kind of effect it would have on Ken.. I don't know if it was calculated or not, but it was a damned brilliant move."

Starsky met Trevor's defiant stare with one of his own. "I didn't get where I am with Hutch by playing head games and bullshitting him. Yeah, we're tight, but I have that place in his life because I earned it. I deserve it. And he's got that same kinda place right here," he jabbed a finger in his own chest, "because he earned it and deserves it, too. And no matter who else is in his life, that ain't gonna change. Ain't gonna change for me either. And if you want that kinda place in Hutch's heart, ya get it by being _you_. No other way. Ya gotta be honest, ya gotta be sincere, and ya gotta love him. Period. And if you think about it, you've known that all along."

Trevor still stared at Starsky, but the intimidation behind it had lessened. "There's a lot of truth in those words," he admitted cautiously. "But Starsky, I need to know. Are we rivals?"

Starsky was silent a moment. He met Trevor's eyes and stated, "I'm not gonna be anything but honest with Hutch. Does that make us rivals?" He shrugged. "Seems to me, since you're the one he's sleeping with, and in love with, I'm not even a consideration. I'm his best friend. Nothing more."

Trevor smiled. "Oh, I underestimated you once, Starsky. I don't intend to make that mistake again."

"I can't take what doesn't belong to me, Trevor. And that includes Hutch's heart. I was under the impression you had the claim on that."

"Do I?" Trevor asked softly. "After watching the two of you today, I'm not so certain that's true."

"There's nothing that you've seen today that hasn't been there right from the start," Starsky warned. "It didn't just happen _now_. This is the way we are, the way we've always been. Question is, you gonna deal with it, or are you gonna walk away like you did the last time?"

Trevor seemed to flinch at the question. "Walk away? Starsky, do you really think I could? Damn, now that I have Ken in my life again, I can't imagine my life without him! Have you ever felt like that about someone? Someone that's become so much a part of you, that you can't imagine happiness without them?"

"Of course I have," Starsky replied bitterly.

A football came crashing down right in the center of the picnic table, startling the two men. A few players scrambled past their table, snatched the ball back, and dashed back to the field. Hutch came running up behind Trevor and threw his arms around the seated man. He gave his lover a squeeze before nuzzling his neck. "Come cheer me on," he beckoned.

"I'll be right there," Trevor smiled, squeezing Hutch's arm in return.

As Trevor rose to follow Hutch, he walked around the table. Starsky stood up. He called Trevor's name, halting him a few feet away. "You asked me if I've ever felt that way, if there was someone who'd become so much a part of me that I couldn't imagine life without them."

"Yes?"

"That someone is Hutch."

Starsky's words seemed to give Trevor a start. Recovering quickly, he regarded Starsky in a thoughtful manner. He didn't speak, but Starsky saw something in Trevor's eyes that spoke of empathy. Trevor gave a short nod, then walked away.

 

**~*~**

 

Starsky & Hutch were on patrol when their radio cackled to life. "Zebra three, shots fired at Gallagher's on Twelfth and Windy Point. Suspects last seen fleeing on foot, southbound on Windy Point. Suspect one is a male caucasian, 6 foot, brunet wearing a black leather jacket and jeans. Suspect two is a male Caucasian, 5 foot 6, bald, wearing a black sweatshirt and jeans..."

As the dispatcher continued her description, Starsky spotted the two men dashing down the street. Picking up the mic, he announced, "This is Zebra three, we see the suspects and are in pursuit." He pressed the pedal harder and shot down the street.

Hearing the roar of the Torino's engine, the young men dashed down an alley. Starsky groaned at their choice of alleys - they picked one he knew he couldn't possibly get the car completely through. Screeching to a halt with the car blocking the entrance, both Starsky and Hutch jumped from the car and proceeded after the suspects on foot.

The alley was narrow and loaded with crates and pallets and garbage bins. Running through it was comparable to running an obstacle course, yet it was not a course they were unfamiliar with. Having run this alley many times before, the two detectives were well aware of every niche and cranny of this path. Starsky automatically claimed the suspect on the left, as Hutch veered off with his prey on the right.

Starsky's suspect watched Hutch gaining on his buddy, apparently inspired to try a different course of action. He leapt on top of a closed garbage bin, and jumped up to a suspended fire escape ladder that hung several feet above the ground. With Starsky hot on his heels, he didn't climb far before his pursuer leaped up and latched tightly onto his thick belt, pulling them both crashing to the top of the metal refuse container. They came down with such force, they snapped the abused hinge of the lid, and found themselves falling on top of slippery and awkward bags of trash. The suspect's gun flew off in the tussle.

The suspect pulled a fast punch on Starsky, nearly knocking the wind from his lungs. Starsky lashed back with a strength that obviously surprised the young man, and they battled with punch after punch while they both struggled to keep their balance. Their struggles managed to rip open several of the trash bags, initially giving them better balance, but now tangling their feet in mushy disgusting glop. To Starsky's disgust, the suspect managed to get the best of him momentarily, sending him sliding on his backside to the far side of the bin. However, in his rush to scramble out of the bin, Starsky managed to twist his own feet between the other man's, dragging him right down beside him. The fight continued until Starsky finally landed a right cross to the man's jaw, dropping him limply into the sloshy muck.

Hutch arrived with his own suspect in cuffs, just as Starsky hauled his catch over the side of the bin and slapped the restraints on him as well. Hutch had seen the entire scuffle from the other end of the alley, and looked to his partner, admiration evident in his eyes. "I don't know how you do it, pal. You use garbage for bait, and look at the fish you catch."

Starsky rewarded him with a tired grin. "One man's garbage is another man's treasure."

Hutch shook his head. "Next time I criticize you for dumpster diving, remind me of this day."

Jumping down to the pavement, Starsky nodded. "I'll do that."

Sirens had pulled up at the opposite end of the alley, and uniformed officers were arriving to assist. Starsky shoved his prisoner at one of them, instructing him to "Take care of this piece of trash, will ya? I'm not putting that filth in my car."

Hutch waved his hand in front of his nose. "I hate to break this to you. You smell worse than he does. And what's that stuck to your hip? Is that a sanitary napkin?"

Starsky made a horrified face, until he realized it was no more than a fast food wrapper that Hutch indicated. He swatted the offending trash away. "At least I got a change of clothes in the car." Returning to his vehicle, he opened the trunk and pulled a gym bag toward him. He fished around until he found the clothes he had worn to the gym that morning.

Looking around to be sure he could speak privately, Hutch asked, "You remember how I promised to tell you when...um...when you did something that I found particularly attractive...? When you turn me on?"

"Huh? Oh. Yeah, why?"

"Now."

Starsky looked up. "Now?"

"Now."

"Oh, very funny," Starsky smiled. "You expect me to believe you get turned on by me taking a swim in a pile of garbage? You're a sick man..."

Hutch came up behind him and leaned into the trunk, stretching to pull out a blanket from far in the back. As he did so, he deliberately braced himself against Starsky, holding on to him for leverage, and pressing his groin against Starsky's hip.

Starsky jumped, startled to feel Hutch's substantial erection crushing into his flank, and amazed that his friend had not been speaking in jest. When Hutch pulled back and handed him the blanket, Starsky's eyes were wide with surprise.

"You should throw that on the seat of your car," Hutch recommended, nodding his head at the blanket. "Protect your upholstery."

Nodding mutely, Starsky stared at him. Hutch started to walk away, when Starsky regained his voice. "Where ya going?"

Hutch grinned and returned, leaning close to Starsky's ear. "If I'm going to get rid of this hard on, I'm sure as hell not going to do it watching you strip. I'm going to see if any of the guys have talked to Gallagher and see if he's all right."

With a gulp, Starsky nodded mutely, his eyes automatically wandering down to Hutch's groin. Because of the long, untucked flannel shirt he wore, Hutch's erection was not visible, yet Starsky felt a prickly heat dance through him, just from knowing of its existence.

Starsky quietly spoke to Hutch and inquired, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Did you get off seeing me take a beating, or do you just like seeing me humiliated by being dunked in garbage?"

Hutch laughed, his eyes twinkling. "While those are both great added bonuses," he teased before explaining, "they had nothing to do with why I got so turned on."

"So what was it?"

Hutch became serious. "It was watching you work. Your intensity. Your strength. Your determination. Your confidence. Watching you chase down a perp is a thing of beauty." He looked directly at Starsky. " _You_ are a thing of beauty."

Starsky swallowed.

"Come find me when you're decent," Hutch instructed, walking away down the alley.

"Uh, Hutch?" Starsky called to him. "Thanks."

Hutch gave him a large smile and a wink, and continued on his way.

Starsky looked down at himself, and saw the muck covering his clothes. At least Hutch had been unable to see the erection his lean into him had caused. The long shirt and filth had hidden it well. He laughed at the disgusting picture he must make, dripping in slime, and shook his head disbelievingly at his friend. Behind the relative shelter of his car, he pulled off the offending jeans and shirt and replaced them with his sweaty but garbage-free workout clothes, and stuffed the soiled items into a paper bag he found in the trunk. He then trotted off to find his partner.

 

~*~

 

In the days and weeks that followed, Trevor became a frequent presence. He and Hutch spent a great deal of time together, and Starsky accepted him as Hutch's lover without question or complaint. Trevor simply slipped into their life, and found an easy fit. Trevor and Hutch's relationship flourished, finding once again the unique closeness they had shared in their youth; and a deeper, more mature relationship based on trust and honesty, and a pure affection for each other. Both men were extremely happy, and their sex life had never been as intensely pleasurable and satisfying.

Trevor's corporation tried to cut short his lengthy vacation and insist on his return to Seattle, but instead found that Trevor could easily accommodate the company needs in Bay City. Rather than shorten the visit, KXTN agreed to Trevor's suggestion that he resolve their current crisis from his hotel, in exchange for their lengthening the term of his holiday. His original eight week vacation was now stretched into ten, which he continued to use to reacquaint himself with his former lover, and to pursue other employment opportunities in the area.

 

~*~

 

"You coming with, Starsk?" Hutch encouraged.

"Nah, you go ahead," Starsky absently waved off Hutch and Trevor. He sat back on his beach blanket, propped up by his elbows to watch the other two trot off to the inviting water. Looking up to the midmorning sun, he relished the feel of the warmth on his face. This had been a good idea.

When Hutch had suggested going to the beach, he resisted initially, not wanting to feel like a third wheel. But Hutch had shot down his reluctance, reminding him that he and Trevor couldn't be affectionate in public. This would just be a day at the beach for friends, no romance allowed.

The promise hadn't quite rung true, however. While the two lovers had been very platonic in their actions, and from a distance would appear to be mere friends, it was a different story close up. Starsky, in close proximity, was privy to their expressive eyes.

Trevor was much more discreet than Hutch. He carried himself with the same professionalism and elegance on the beach as he did on the job. The man just always seemed to be in control, capable; whether at work or at play. Yet distanced from watchful strangers, he did let his heart show in his eyes. Starsky guessed it was hardest for him to mask the love reflected in his gaze, and therefore the first pretense to drop. Either that, or he judged the distance and the supportive company to be something he could trust.

Hutch was easier to read. An extremely open and forthright lover, Hutch had little experience with denying his heart. Trevor's skill at closeting his affections and desires was something foreign, an issue he had never had to face or practice. Hutch didn't publicly display his affections for Trevor, yet his face was an open book. Starsky hadn't seen Hutch look this happy since just before his wedding. Perhaps not even then. The sappy smiles, the lovesick gazes, the uncharacteristic shyness, the blue eyes darkened by desire. Certainly it wouldn't be obvious to John Q. Public, probably even close up, but to Starsky it was devastatingly clear. Hutch was in love. And Starsky was jealous as hell.

It was a strange realization to accept. In the first days of Hutch's renewed relationship with Trevor, Starsky convinced himself that the jealousy he felt was about losing the quantity of time he had always had with Hutch. Seeing a lover meant less time for friends, less time for Starsky. But the many days he spent trying to be less physical around Hutch, for Trevor's benefit, had taught him a painful lesson. Once deprived of the contact with Hutch, Starsky craved its return. Their demonstrativeness was something Starsky deeply needed, since being denied any other way to express his feelings physically. When Hutch had confronted him at Huggy's picnic and demanded that Starsky stop distancing himself, he had been thrilled and relieved. What he hadn't anticipated was just how intensely the deprivation had affected him. He had taken their affection, their touch, for granted. The return of that touch now made his body rejoice at the renewed contact. Starsky's body now rewarded Hutch's touch with a sexually delighted response.

Not every touch excited him, but there were times now that Hutch would throw his arm around him, or squeeze his shoulder or innocently swat his rump, and Starsky's nerve endings would leap to attention and his groin would stir with longing. Starsky mentally laughed it off in the beginning, certain that it was due to the fact that he hadn't been laid in a long time, and he had probably become unaccustomed to Hutch's hands during his self induced withdrawal. Yet Hutch's ability to arouse him was not fading. It was increasing.

Starsky sat back watching Hutch run forward into the inviting ocean waves, hair flying, his athletic body gleaming golden in the sun. As Hutch plunged headlong into the surf, and Starsky caught one last glimpse of him stretched out in his masculine beauty before diving beneath the glimmering water. Starsky felt the now familiar stirring in his jeans and sat bolt upright, amazed that he was feeling something from visual stimulation alone, absent of Hutch's hands. "I'll be damned!" he chuckled, straining to get a better look at his partner swimming out toward the sandbar, but he could see little more than the fair head and graceful arms. His cutoffs were growing increasingly more uncomfortable, and he laughed at the irony. "Ya got some timing there pal," he muttered to his denim encased erection. "Can't ya see he ain't interested?" Sighing, he let his eyes return to the two men racing through the waves. "Can't ya see it's not _you_ he wants?" Despite his efforts to enlighten his body of the facts, he was only answered with a silent and aching demand of need.

Trevor and Hutch had reached their goal, and now stood hip deep in water, pausing to rest and catch their breath. Starsky watched them interact, his jealousy becoming harder to ignore in his aroused state. As he looked on, Hutch suddenly lunged at Trevor with a tackle, knocking him off his feet and plunging him beneath the water's surface. Quickly regaining his footing, Hutch laughingly abandoned his lover who was grasping and sputtering in shock, then dove back into the waves to make his return trip to shore, Trevor finally following a couple lengths behind.

Alarmed, Starsky turned and flipped onto his stomach, hiding his bulging cutoffs. He silently cursed himself for not joining them in their swim. At least the cool water would have made it easier to tame his erection. Now all he could do is attempt to distract his passions with mundane thoughts, a sort of mental ice water. Fortunately, he found some success as their long swim bought him time, and his erection subsided. He buried his head in his folded arms, wondering what the hell he was going to do if he couldn't keep this insistent desire a secret.

Hutch and Trevor wearily tramped back to the blanket, and Hutch flopped unceremoniously down beside Starsky while Trevor remained standing, toweling his hair dry. Their dripping bodies splattered chilling droplets over Starsky's bare legs, eliciting a yelp of displeasure from the prone man.

"Should've come out there, Starsk," Hutch chided. "The water's perfect."

Starsky raised his head with an inelegant snort. "Feels pretty damn cold from here."

Hutch smiled, shaking his head sharply, cascading more droplets down on this friend's body. "That's only 'cause you're up here soaking up rays. It's warm when you're in it."

"Soaking up rays?" Trevor exclaimed. "Starsky, do you always sunbathe with a shirt on?"

Starsky sat up and cocked his head. "Well, actually, yeah I do," he answered in amusement. He stood and walked to the cooler to pull out a can of coke. "I've got some scars from when I was shot so I always wear a shirt, even at the beach."

Trevor gave Hutch a confused look, but Hutch was watching Starsky soberly. "So what if you've got scars?" Trevor asked. "So does Ken, and he's not wearing a shirt."

Starsky gave a short laugh and looked to Hutch. "I would've thought you put him up to this, if he hadn't compared my scars to yours."

Hutch shrugged and stared back at Starsky defiantly. "He's got a point. It's just us. And I keep telling you, it's not that bad."

"Yeah, right," Starsky shook his head. "You don't look like Frankenstein."

Hutch looked away, disgust obvious in his expression. "Neither do you," he muttered.

Not wanting to get into the familiar argument again, Starsky sighed audibly. First assuring himself that no one else was close by, he looked down at the mesh shirt he wore, and grabbed the hem of it, pulling it up and over his head. "There. Ya happy?"

Trevor looked at the two scars. "Starsky, you obviously work out. Why would you let a couple scars stop you from showing off all that hard work? If I had a body like that, I'd be flaunting it," he grinned.

An embarrassed grin spread across Starsky's face, but quickly faded away. He looked to Hutch helplessly, but Hutch still just returned that defiant look of his. "Um, thanks Trevor, but these aren't the scars I meant. These are just the two that went all the way through." Starsky tossed the mesh shirt at Hutch, who snatched it out of midair right before it smacked him in the face. Hutch sat up straight, and laid the garment across his lap as Starsky turned his back slowly to the two men, his hands on his hips, his head downcast.

"Dear God," he heard Trevor mutter, barely louder than a whisper, as the man moved directly behind him. He was about to make a smart ass remark to Hutch and ask for his shirt back when he felt Trevor's warm hand gently glide across the path of his scars.

The touch startled Starsky, who expected the usual withdrawal that accompanied his revealing of his battle scars. Most people would swear, express revulsion, and back away, acting as if he were damaged goods. He hadn't been prepared for someone to reach out and touch them. Starsky abruptly whirled around, the move knocking Trevor's hand away from his shoulders.

Trevor turned the offending hand palm-out in a gesture of surrender, and tensed, watching Starsky intently. Starsky realized the man was braced for the punch he obviously anticipated from him. "I'm sorry, Starsky," Trevor said apologetically. "I didn't mean anything. I reacted without thinking."

Starsky quickly shot out his left hand and grasped Trevor's outstretched hand, catching him off guard. He gave the hand a reassuring squeeze. "It's okay, Trevor. You just surprised me is all. People don't usually wanna touch ‘em." He released the man's hand and turned his back again, offering to let him examine the marks freely.

He could feel Trevor step close again, and once again the hand ran across the long-healed wounds. Trevor clasped Starsky's shoulders firmly in his hands and stared at the broad back. "The scars aren't bad, Starsky," Trevor said with finality. "I wasn't shocked at how they looked. I was shocked at the story they told about you."

Starsky turned slightly, glancing over his shoulder. "What do you mean?"

Trevor's thumb stroked one circular mark, high on his left shoulder, as if giving it serious consideration. "This looks like machine gun fire," he murmured.

"Yeah, they had an automatic," Starsky replied.

Trevor turned him back to face him. "You took five hits from an automatic weapon? It's a wonder you didn't die."

"He DID die," Hutch announced bitterly. "For a minute, anyway."

"It was four shots," Starsky corrected. "The one near the middle is from another shooting. Must be a bulls eye tattooed back there, huh?" He cocked his thumb at Hutch and added quietly. "That dying part kinda freaked him out."

"Yeah, I'm funny that way," Hutch responded sarcastically.

Trevor faced Starsky directly. "Starsky, your scars aren't that bad, visually. What impacted me is the idea that _someone_ _I know_ went through something so traumatic. It speaks of what kind of a man you are, to be able to survive that kind of physical blow and bounce back. You must have great strength, and incredible endurance." Trevor then walked away from Starsky, leaving him standing there with his mouth hanging open.

"I, um, I think I'm gonna see a man about a horse," Starsky muttered to his companions. Hutch gave him a beautiful smile, and Starsky turned away before his body had a chance to rise up and show Hutch just how much he liked that damned smile. He was halfway to the concession stand before he was even aware that he had left the shirt behind, and was walking into a crowded area half naked and completely vulnerable, something he hadn't done since the shooting nine years ago. To his surprise, and relief, no one seemed to notice or care.

A bold woman in a skimpy bikini had even given him a hungry smile and mouthed 'nice ass' before joining her girlfriends a short distance away. It wasn't until he was on his return trip back to Hutch and Trevor that he realized that the beauty in the bikini had done no more than make him smile and feed his ego, yet when Hutch had smiled at him he had to scoot before his erection became noticeable to his best friend.

Things were sure getting complicated.

Starsky watched Hutch and Trevor on the blanket and felt a wave of guilt wash over him. Just as he was beginning to see that he could think of Hutch as something more than a friend, Hutch was falling for another guy and looked happier than he had ever been. Trevor was without a doubt a good person, and his feelings for Hutch were sincere and deep. Starsky had seen enough of the man to be sure of that, and today was no exception. The two seemed well suited to each other. They were both caring, sensitive people. Did he have any right to speak up, and possibly come between the two lovers? For Hutch's happiness, should he remain silent and step aside?

But a persistent voice nudged at his consciousness: How did he know that he couldn't make Hutch just as happy? Or happier? Was he willing to step over a line that he had never crossed before and risk his very way of life for a relationship that would make him a societal outcast? Or had he been dancing on that line for the past twenty years without fear of the consequences, pulled by his heart to what he needed all the way to his soul?

_Damn. Why couldn't things be simple?_

 

~*~

 

"Nice shot," Hutch tipped his beer at his partner. Starsky's responding wink made him smile.

Huggy had rallied the help of Starsky and Hutch in taming the peanut gallery once again. The youthful group welcomed the opportunity to try to win back some of their money from the pair that had played them into the ground a several weeks previous, and openly challenged Starsky and Hutch to more games of pool, this time with even higher stakes.

Starsky played in rare form. He simply could not be beat. With his dramatic wins, and a few beers to boost his ego, he strutted around the table with a flamboyant twirl of his pool cue. As he sunk the final shot, he declared, "And THAT, my friends, is how you play the game of pool!"

"That was a great game, Starsk," Hutch complimented him, as he watched a new pair put money on the rail to challenge the table. He recognized them from another bar, and gave respect to their skill. "Hey, maybe we should quit while we're ahead. I've seen these guys play before, and they're pretty good."

A glint twinkled in Starsky's eyes. "You think we can't beat them, partner?" He looked the other players over with a critical glance. "Trust me, Hutch." Starsky walked over and introduced himself to the other men, accepting their bets.

Grinning, Hutch tucked half their winnings into his shirt pocket, and shoved the rest in Starsky's hand. "I'll trust you, babe, but we're leaving when that's gone." He had plans on getting home early, surprising Trevor, and enjoying a long night of hot sex.

"Fair enough," Starsky gloated. "But I'll bet you ten bucks we never touch it."

Through slitted eyes, Hutch studied his friend. When Starsky was in a mood like this, there was little stopping him. "No bet," Hutch replied. "I've learned to give you a lot of lead when you get this cocky, and I don't plan to stop now."

Starsky winked at him. "Smart man."

The pool commenced, and Starsky proved his cockiness to be well earned. The pair easily beat the challengers to the table, and the following three sets. Soon they found few people willing to play against them.

"Nobody wants to play," Starsky complained to Hutch, feigning disappointment.

"Don't feel bad, hot shot. You played some damn fine pool tonight."

Starsky grinned. "I was hot tonight, wasn't I?"

"Hot is the word," Hutch agreed. "In fact, tonight has been one of those nights."

Starsky gave him a puzzled look, asking, "What nights? What do you mean?"

Hutch looked at him, with a wicked grin. "Remember when I told you I'd let you know when you turned me on? This. Here. Now."

"Again? Now?" Starsky looked amused.

Hutch quietly replied, "Confidence can be very sexy."

Starsky grinned at him. "So can honesty. Come on Romeo, play me a game of pool."

"You've lost your mind if you think I'm gonna play you for money," Hutch shook his head.

"Money?" Starsky sounded surprised. "No. We're gonna play a gentleman's game, Hutch. Just you and me."

"I think we're short one gentlemen," Hutch kidded. He checked his watch, and knew that there was still time enough for him to play another game and make it over to Trevor's at a reasonable hour. "Okay, I'll play you."

"Good," Starsky declared cheerfully. "I'll rack." He leaned over the table to tightly press the balls into the triangle, and smoothly glide the rack over the target. With practiced gentleness, he lifted the guide up an away from the balls and turned back to Hutch, who had been standing just behind him. "Your break."

Hutch's head snapped back up to attention. He wondered if Starsky realized he had just been staring at his ass. "Uh, right."

Leaning in close to murmur to his buddy privately, Starsky asked, "You like what you see?"

Grabbing his cue and walking to the opposite end of the table, Hutch readied his shot. "Starsk, you have no idea," he chuckled, slamming a perfect shot right into the aligned balls. The balls scattered wildly, sending two balls into the pockets.

Hutch walked past Starsky to line up his second shot, and Starsky said quietly, "Eat your heart out."

"Kiss my ass," Hutch replied in good humor, sinking his next shot. He quickly lined up the next shot.

Just as he was about to shoot, Starsky asked, "Was that a request? ‘Cause all you ever had to do was ask."

Hutch's shot went wild. He slowly turned to glare at Starsky, but his self-satisfied smirk was irresistible. Hutch laughed. "I'll get you for that."

"Is that a threat or a promise?"

Uncertain how to take his behavior, Hutch looked at Starsky with a confused expression, yet the look did nothing to temper Starsky's mood. He continued to make comments that could be taken as flirtatious, and deliberately flaunted his body in front of Hutch. Any time he had a shot that left him bending over the table in front of Hutch, he would look back to Hutch as if to see if he was checking out his backside. Hutch began to wonder if Starsky wasn't downright posing for him.

Another time, as Hutch was sitting on a bench, Starsky reached over Hutch's head to pull down a particular pool cue he insisted would improve his play, hovering over his partner with his shirt dangling against his cheek, and his bare chest temptingly close to his face. It was all Hutch could do to restrain himself from pulling the man into his lap.

Hutch found himself playing more games of pool, pushing back his plans to spend time with Trevor. Starsky's comments and flirtatious behavior were exciting and appealing, and he stood transfixed, unable to tear himself away from the rare display of pure sensuality from his partner.

Always a physical man, Starsky often had his hands on Hutch; a swat to the rear, leaning into him, rubbing his shoulders. Hutch thought it seemed somehow different this night, more frequent, more lingering, almost erotic.

Never one for modesty, Starsky swaggered around the table, looking like an animal on the prowl. The raw sexuality he exuded attracted several ladies to their corner, all whom eventually left after they failed to win the favor of either man playing pool. Neither man was rude; they just were having too good a time to even notice anyone else.

Their pool games were more evenly matched, and lasted longer than the games spent vying for monetary gain. Starsky looked up as he chalked his cue and asked, "You wanna play one more, then call it a night?"

Hutch had grown a little tired of the pool and nodded. "Sure." It gnawed at him in the back of his mind, that he had allowed himself to be drawn into staying at the bar, in spite of the fact that he could easily have gone home, and straight into the arms of his lover. Yet Starsky's actions had been just too impelling to ignore.

A wicked smile illuminated Starsky's face. "You want to make this one more interesting?"

Wary, Hutch eyed him. "I'm not going to play you for money. I've got plans for this green, and it doesn't include showering you with it."

"No problem," Starsky grinned. "How about something...riskier?"

The suggestion had Hutch's full attention. "Riskier? What do you mean, riskier?"

Stepping into Hutch's personal space, Starsky looked at him with darkened eyes. "Depends. What do you _want_ , Hutch?"

Hutch did not back down from Starsky's challenge. In his aroused state, Starsky's proximity was making his breathing rough. "What are you suggesting, Starsk?"

Starsky didn't answer, but the two men locked eyes, and Hutch didn't doubt an offer was on the table. He frowned, and pulled back, dropping his beer bottle on the nearest table. "Let's call it a night." He awkwardly walked off, not bothering to check if Starsky was following.

Trotting to catch up to him, Starsky grabbed Hutch's shoulder. "Hey, wait up. What's the matter?"

"Nothing. I think we've just been at this too long. It's just time to go home."

"Come on, Hutch. I thought you were having fun."

"No, I'm not." Hutch left the bar and walked up to his car.  "Not anymore." It was not out of the question to appear at Trevor's this late, though the plan no longer held the same appeal. Staying here, captive to Starsky's seductive nature, while he effectively tossed aside his own lover, taught Hutch something about himself that he wasn't quite prepared to face. He got in the car, swamped in guilt, mentally berating himself for his foolishness. Starsky wasn't even gay, and completely unattainable; he wondered how he could allow this to happen.

Starsky scurried around to the passenger side, seeming distrustful that Hutch would wait if he dallied. He slid in beside his friend. "You mad?"

Hutch pulled out of the alley. "Starsky, you just spent half the night hitting on me."

"Hey, correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you tell me I turned you on tonight?"

"And you respond by hitting on me? Why? Is this funny to you?"

"I'm not laughing at you."

"Then what was the point of all that? That wasn't real, Starsky! That was just a game. But it's a game at my expense."

"Hutch, I wasn't laughing at you, and it wasn't a game. It all felt good tonight. I wanted it."

"You implied you'd sleep with me if I beat you at pool."

A grin crept across Starsky's face. "And I woulda, too."

Hutch slammed his hand down on the steering wheel. "Damn it! Knock it off already! You had your fun. You got me all worked up. You had me enjoying the game. But that's all it is, Starsky. A game. _Your_ game."

"Don't tell me you weren't having fun. You liked it."

"Yes! I liked it! I enjoyed having you flirt with me! I blew off a chance to be with Trevor tonight, I enjoyed it so much. Does that make you happy? Does that feed your oversized ego enough? Now leave me the hell alone! I don't need you throwing yourself at me just to see if you can have an effect on your queer partner."

Hutch could see Starsky's anger rising. "Come on! I wasn't just screwing with you. It wasn't a game. I wanted it!"

"No! You got it wrong, pal! You're straight! I'm bi! Don't get us mixed up."

"Listen to me! I wanted it! You know how I feel about you-"

Irritated, Hutch interrupted him. "But you aren't gay, Starsk. I don't want to have sex with you. I'd want to make love to you, and that isn't something you're capable of. I know you love me, but you don't love me like that. And you sure as hell aren't capable of feeling the kind of desire I'd need from you."

"Who made you the almighty ruler of my heart and my dick?"

"Don't give me that crap! This isn't about love! This is about you finding out I can feel desire for you, and you think it's hilarious. It gives you some kind of power trip. What I should've done was take you up on your offer. It would've scared the living shit right out of you!"

Starsky looked furious. He turned away and stared out the passenger window. To Hutch's surprise, Starsky kept his mouth shut, as if he knew that if he spoke now, he would explode. The rest of the drive to Hutch's apartment was made in brooding silence.

As Hutch pulled over to the curb in front of the Torino, Starsky turned to him and said, "What I said back there, I meant. All you ever had to do was ask me. Nothing woulda been off limits."

"Stop talking like that! Don't you get it? You're offering something you can't deliver!"

Hutch slammed the driver's side door shut and pointed a finger at Starsky over the roof of his car. "You know what you are, Starsk? You're a _prick tease_!"

The moment the words left his mouth, Hutch regretted them.

Starsky gave Hutch a dark glare, then turned on his heel and walked away from him without a backward glance. He went right up the steps toward Hutch's apartment.

Hutch swore under his breath. There were patrons leaving Chez Helene's that heard his insult, and a woman had giggled. A couple men muttered some derogatory remarks to each other. Starsky had not acknowledged any of them as he stormed off, but Hutch knew it would have been impossible for him not to at least be aware of their presence, if not their words. The fact that they were strangers didn't matter. He'd not only hurt his friend, but humiliated him on top of it.

Upon reaching the apartment door, he found it open, and Starsky standing in the middle of the living room, his back to him, his head downcast.

Hutch cleared his throat. "Um, Starsk? Listen, I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said. I was angry and frustrated, and I just blurted it out without thinking. You didn't deserve that."

Starsky was silent for a long time. Finally, when Hutch could barely stand the torture a moment longer, Starsky unzipped his jacket and carefully laid it across the chair. He turned to face Hutch, just studying him for a moment. "I'm gonna say something here, and I don't want you to misunderstand, so I'm gonna say it as plain as I can. I love you. Everything I said tonight, and everything I did, was based on that. There was no game. You weren't the butt of some joke. I was just trying to find some way to let you know that if you want to take us to another level and bring sex into the picture, I'm interested."

Hutch sat down, his hands clasped in front of him. "I'm sorry. I had you pegged wrong. But you've got me all confused here. You _can't_ want this. You've never shown any interest before! You aren't gay! You say you love me, but that's no reason to jump into bed with me. You have no idea what you're offering here, what it's like to really love another man. You aren't capable of feeling real love for me..."

Starsky dragged a hand over his mouth in evident frustration. "You know, when I was recovering from the Gunther shooting, I remember having a long talk with you about love. I told you then that I loved you. I told you that you were the most important person in my life. I told you I'd never cared about anyone the way I care about you. I don't remember anyone questioning my integrity then."

Standing up, Hutch reached out and cupped Starsky's face in his hand. The look of betrayal in his friend's face cut him to the quick. He remembered the talk during Starsky's recovery. It had been after Hutch had broken down, and confessed how scared he had been that he nearly lost his best friend.

Hutch assured him, "I'm not questioning your integrity, Starsky."

Knocking Hutch's hand from his face angrily, Starsky spat out, "The hell you aren't!" He stepped away, putting distance between them. "You keep telling me that I can't feel _this_ for you, and I can't want _that_ with you. Now I'm gonna tell YOU something!" He paused for a moment, facing Hutch defiantly. "I've loved you for a hell of a long time. I don't know if it's gay love or straight love. All I know is it's love. I love you. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone."

"Starsky, I..."

"No! You listen to _me_ now! Okay, so I've never shown any interest in having sex with you. I also didn't know that was even an option. I never had any clue you'd be okay with that. Then I find out that you've been with another guy. I didn't know what to make of that, but I can tell you it sure pissed me off!"

Hutch's face shot up. "Pissed you off?"

Hands on his hips, Starsky stepped up to Hutch. "Yeah! Pissed me off! Hey, I've loved you since we were barely more than kids. I _love_ you. Hell, _I'd give my life for you,_ and not just ‘cause of the job. When the time came that you decided to give your heart to another man, you shoulda come to ME!"

Shocked, Hutch's jaw dropped. He could only stare into Starsky's angry eyes disbelievingly. No words would come.

"And now you tell me I have no clue what it's like to love another man? Well fuck you, Hutchinson! If what I feel for you isn't love, then I guess I'm just incapable of feeling the emotion, ‘cause I've sure as hell never felt anything this strongly in my whole life!" He grabbed his jacket and stormed past Hutch's outstretched hand.

"Starsky, wait!"

Starsky turned around and pointed a furious finger at him. "And don't go telling me I can't feel desire for you! When you leaned into me that day in the alley and I felt your hard on rubbing against my ass, I got aroused. Tonight, I got aroused just thinking of us maybe hitting the sack. When I think of us that way, it turns me on. Now if you don't want me, fine. But don't go telling me that I _can't_ love you and I _can't_ want you, ‘cause you're killing me here, partner."

Grabbing the doorknob, Starsky turned back to Hutch. His anger spent, he just looked sadly back at his confused friend. "Maybe you're right. Maybe since I'm not gay I don't know what the hell I'm talking about. But I thought making love to you would be something...special. Something really nice. Something that could last a lifetime."

Before Hutch could reply, Starsky had vanished through the door and was gone.

 

~*~

 

Hutch wanted to chase after Starsky and stop him from leaving, but he sat there completely paralyzed by the words his friend had hurled at him. Finally he jumped up and propelled himself forward, not coming to a halt until he stood on the front steps of his building staring helplessly at the empty parking spot that used to contain his partner's Torino.

The cool night breeze caressed his face, slowly bringing him out of the shock he had been floundering in. Despite his upset, adrenaline was screaming through his veins, and his heart was pounding. His brain was tossing around the thoughts that Starsky was angry and he needed to speak with him, yet a smile spread across his face and he struggled against an insistent urge to shout for joy.

Turning away from the lonely street and the invigorating night's breeze, he made his way back to his apartment. There was no point in calling Starsky. Not only was it too soon for Starsky to have arrived at home yet, but this was not the kind of conversation he wanted to have on a telephone. Besides, Starsky was still angry, and Hutch knew it was best if he let the man work out his anger on his own before they tried to discuss the matter at heart. Starsky was just too mad to do anything but feel right now. And Hutch knew his own shortcomings as well. If he were to show up at Starsky's right now, he'd pull Starsky into his arms and into a kiss, and wouldn't stop. Assuming, of course, that Starsky would let him. And this was not the way he wanted to start a relationship.

_Start a relationship!_ The thought suddenly brought his careening emotions to a complete standstill. Trevor. Through all of Starsky's revelations, Hutch had never even given thought to Trevor, to the man who loved him, to the man he professed to love, to the man he had made love to just that morning, to the man he had believed possessed his heart, until Starsky spoke of love and desire.

How could he be so shallow? Trevor was not just some one-night-stand, or some sexual fling. Hutch was appalled at himself for being so willing to cast aside a man he truly loved and a future he believed in, all for a chance for love with Starsky. Yet he'd do it in a heartbeat.

Hutch sat down on his couch, burying his face in his hands. Trevor has been the one romantic relationship in his life to give him joy and peace. It should be the one cherished aspect of his life that he protected and valued. Why is it that the moment Starsky opened up, Trevor wasn't even a passing thought?

Starsky was of course the single most important person in his life as a whole. No other individual had such an impact on him. Hutch thought about the moment he met Starsky, long ago on the college campus. Meeting him was like coming home. They were instantly linked, a united force, something karmic. They shared an understanding of each other that bordered on telepathy. It was powerful.

Meeting Trevor has been a similar experience. He felt as if he had come home, the moment he stepped into his arms. It was not merely love at first sight, for that love did not burn up and turn to ash over time, but grew in strength and intensity. Their relationship had been different from his and Starsky's relationship, yet it had also been quite powerful.

However, there was one underlying difference between these two relationships. With Starsky, their coming together as friends had been a fertile environment for growth. Hutch knew that Starsky brought out wondrous things in him that he never knew existed. Starsky helped him build on his strengths and redefine his self worth. He helped him to learn and grow and heal, as no other person had. With Starsky, he was a better person. It was not necessary to question Starsky if he had felt this as well; he knew with absolute certainty, that Starsky would admit it had been the same for him. They were a united force, working toward a single goal.

And in that existed their other unique quality. Hutch knew that deep in the quiet of his heart, it was Starsky's words, his voice, that gave him gentle counsel. The intimacy shared between them was soul shattering, a bond created not through sex but through the fiery strength of their trust and faith.

No other person had that kind of impact in his existence. No other person has that ability to inspire him with a purity of faith.

Not even Trevor.

As good a man, as good a friend, as good a lover as Trevor had been to him, he could not define his bond with Trevor with the same import as his union with Starsky. There was nothing he wouldn't risk for a chance to take this relationship with Starsky into a more intimate plane. Knowing this was even possible created an urgency in his heart that bordered on a basic need of survival. There was no way to deny it now.

Hutch sat back in his couch and felt his exhausted body sink into the cushions. He would have to cut things off with Trevor. Losing him would be terribly heartbreaking, but something he must do before taking any steps with Starsky. It wouldn't be fair to Trevor to string this out. He deserved the truth, and he deserved it now. 

He thought back to Trevor's explanation, as to why he broke off their relationship the first time, so many years ago. In hearing his truth, Hutch had grown angry that assumptions had been made about his heart and his intentions. In the end, Trevor had been proved right all along. Hutch had not shouted a denial at Trevor, renouncing the claim that he had been in love with Starsky. Even in his self denial, he could not nullify the words. Instead he had insisted that he had been in love with Trevor, and his friendship with Starsky had no bearing on their relationship. Hutch could see now the foolishness of his words. Trevor had been right. While Hutch did truly love Trevor, the depth of love he shared with his partner was far more possessing, and it was surely the rightful owner of his heart. Trevor had touched his heart, given and taken love that was freely offered, but the single soul that held dominion on his heart was and always would be Starsky.

Hutch felt a peace descend on him. He knew the path he must choose, and the finality of the decision was calming. Stretching out on the couch, he allowed himself to imagine moving forth in life with Starsky as his lover, and incredible joy flooded his heart. No matter how difficult it would be to face Trevor tomorrow, he felt comfort in the certainty that he was reaching for something with infinite faith. He was reaching for a relationship that would complete him as no other could.

 

~*~

 

"You're back early!" Trevor said with delight. "I thought you'd be in court until five, at least. This is great. I was just checking out your fridge to see what I need to get from the grocery store for dinner. Any requests?"

Hutch looked at Trevor and felt a deep weariness descend on him. "No requests," he answered quietly, leaning on the post at the entrance to the kitchen.

Trevor stopped what he was doing and turned around upon hearing Hutch's tone. His expression changed the moment he laid eyes on him. "Something's wrong. What's happened?"

Hutch could hear the concern in Trevor's voice. "Trevor, we need to talk." He thought he saw a look of pain flash in Trevor's eyes before the man dropped his eyes and nodded.

They sat across from each other at the kitchen table, and Hutch reached out and took Trevor's hand in his own. "Before I start, I want you to know that I do love you, very much, and I've never wanted to hurt you."

Raising his chin and meeting Hutch's sorrowful gaze, Trevor instructed, "Just say it, Ken. I know what comes next." Hutch heard no anger in his words, only resignation.

"My heart is divided, Trevor. You need me to be fully committed to you, and I now realize I can't give that to you. I'm sorry. I care about you too deeply to lead you on. I need to end to our relationship."

Trevor closed his eyes and inhaled a long, slow breath. When he opened his eyes again, Hutch could see that he'd laid strict control over his emotions.

"Did you sleep with him?" Trevor asked bluntly.

Hutch gripped Trevor's hand tighter. "I didn't cheat on you," Hutch insisted. This seemed to give Trevor a measure of satisfaction in coping with Hutch's admission.

Trevor sighed and gave a slight, though sad, smile. "I expected this. I hoped I was wrong, but I did see it coming."

Puzzled, Hutch declared, "But _I_ didn't see it coming! How could you?"

"That day we went to Huggy's picnic," Trevor replied. "It was the first time I had really seen you and Starsky together. You two were so close...the way you looked at each other...all these private jokes...it was like watching lovers. I even confronted Starsky about it. I accused him of being in love with you."

Hutch's eyes widened at the revelation. Starsky had never said a word to him. "What did he say to that?"

"He just assured me you two weren't lovers. But he never did deny he was in love with you." Trevor smiled again. "In fact, he told me he loves you unconditionally. He also confided that he couldn't imagine life without you, he loves you that much." Trevor laughed then, but it sounded pained to Hutch. "I wanted so much to be angry at him, to hate him, but right then I could only see myself in his eyes." He looked to Hutch, his eyes shining, and studied him a moment. "Of course he loves you. The man's no fool."

Hutch stood and pulled Trevor from the chair, enfolding him in his arms. "Damn it, Trevor! I never meant to hurt you."

Trevor squeezed him in return, then clapped him lightly on the back and stepped free of the embrace. His eyes were blinking away at the stinging in his eyes, but he managed to look back at Hutch with a grin. "I'm okay, love. I've had a lot of time to prepare for this. None of it's a big shock." He walked over and leaned back against the kitchen counter. "I take it Starsky finally told you how he felt."

Nodding, Hutch took a step closer. "We had a...long talk...last night. It made me realize that you were right all those years ago. I was in love with him, and I lied to myself about it. I'd been denying it so long, trying to protect our friendship, that I couldn't even see what was right in front of my face. I couldn't even see that he was feeling the same things for me." He paused. "My heart belongs to him, Trevor. It always has. This is something I have to follow through with."

"Please, Ken...I _know_." He took another deep breath. "I'm happy for you. It hurts, and I'm jealous as hell, but I'm still happy for you. I was going to fight for you, shut Starsky down at all costs, but I couldn't do it. It would have been a lie, to tell myself that I'd won your heart. Your heart belongs to him, and I have no right to claim it. After all, it's the one thing I'd hoped for you, that you would find true love. I just wish to hell it had been me."

"Thank you," Hutch whispered in a choked voice. "What will you do now? Return to Seattle?"

Eyebrows raised, he considered the question. "No, I don't think I'll do that. I got a great offer from that station in LA, and I think I'll go ahead with it. You know, I decided to come back here before I even knew if you were still in town. It's a plan I still want to stick with. Will that be awkward for you if I stay in town?"

"Not at all!" Hutch insisted. "I don't want to lose your friendship, Trevor, if you think you can still see me as a friend. I can't be your lover, but I will always be a friend to you."

This time Trevor's smile looked genuine. "I'd like that, Ken. But give me time. I'm going to go back to Seattle to tie up loose ends, and I'll be back in about a month. Let me get settled in, get my bearings. I'll call you sometime, and we, uh - the _three_ of us, could go out for coffee or something. You know it won't be easy for me. But you're worth the effort."

Hutch closed the gap between them. "It isn't easy for me either. No matter what you think now, know that I love you, very much. I hope we'll always be friends."

"You have my friendship, Ken. I promise you that. Just give me time to get past this." Trevor laid his hands upon Hutch's chest. "Will you kiss me goodbye?"

"Of course," Hutch said softly, pulling him into his arms again.

"Goodbye, my sweet love," Trevor whispered. "Thank you for giving us a chance. I'll cherish our time together. When I return, I'll embrace you as my friend."

Overwhelmed by the sentiment, Hutch kissed Trevor gently, lovingly. Trevor returned the kiss with a reverence and tenderness that deeply moved him. This was not an expression of passion or heat, but a purity and warmth that would always survive between them, whether lovers or friends.

 

~*~

 

Starsky approached Hutch's apartment, this time bearing a glossy green plant in his hand. Hutch had to appear in court, so he hadn't seen his partner since their argument the previous night. He searched the offerings at a local florist, seeking just the right plant to assist him in smoothing things over with his friend. When the florist pointed out the ‘peace plant,' he grinned at the appropriateness of it. Slipping Hutch's key off the doorframe, he let himself into the apartment.

The sight that met his eyes was like a slap to his face. In the kitchen, he saw Hutch and Trevor in each other's arms. The two men were so involved in their kiss that they didn't hear Starsky enter the apartment. Starsky froze at first, then silently placed the plant on the floor beside the door and slipped out of the apartment unheard. Stopping outside the door, he braced his hand on the doorframe, taken aback by the pain he felt from seeing Hutch kiss Trevor. With a deep breath, he pulled himself together and quickly left the building.

 

~*~

 

Hutch withdrew from Trevor's kiss, and quickly scanned the apartment.

"Something wrong?" Trevor asked.

"I don't know," Hutch murmured. "Did you hear something?"

Trevor shook his head.

Hutch looked concerned. "I just had a feeling..." he stopped, his eyes spotting the little green plant with the snow white flowers sitting beside the door. He quickly strode to the doorway and picked up the plant. "Did you bring this?"

"No. Why? Where do you think it came from?"

Hutch ran his fingers over the unusual Indian pot. "Starsky. He was here."

Trevor's brow furrowed. "When? Just now?"

Hutch looked at Trevor. "He must have come in when we were kissing."

"Ken..."

"I have to go," Hutch declared. He looked imploringly at Trevor.

Trevor gave a weak smile. "Go, Ken." He squeezed Hutch's arm. "I understand."

Hutch smiled gratefully for an instant, then bolted to his bedroom. He grabbed a small brightly colored box from the closet, then hurried into the kitchen. From the drawer, he pulled a small bow and fastened it to the top of the colorful box. He stuffed the box into his pocket and rushed back to the door.  Trevor already had his coat on, and was pulling the door open. Hutch kissed him on the forehead, and held his face in his hands. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Ken. Just go. I'll be back in a month." He patted Hutch on the arm. "Good luck."

Hutch picked up the forgotten plant and quickly left the building, Trevor following behind.

Trevor watched him as he dashed off to his car, and waved as Hutch drove away. Hutch could see him in the rear view mirror, finally heading for his car with a dejected set to his shoulders.

 

~*~

 

Starsky went into his own apartment, and headed straight for the fridge. He pulled out a beer, and was about to open it, when he frowned and put it back. The beverage didn't appeal to him, nor did anything else in the appliance. Instead he filled a tall glass with water and chugged it down. Then he pulled both his hands under the cool stream and splashed the water in his face. Grabbing a kitchen towel, he swiped at his face haphazardly, and tossed the rag across the counter. He stalked out to his couch, and dropped onto it, throwing an arm across his eyes to block the light. Tossing and turning for quite a while, he eventually found a comfortable spot and settled in. Just as he was about to drift off, a knock rapped on his door.

Irritated, he dragged himself away from his finally comfortable spot, and yanked the door open. He was startled to see Hutch standing there, cradling his peace plant in his hand.

"Hutch! What are you doing here? I thought--" he stopped abruptly, not wishing to complete the sentence. "Come in."

Hutch followed him in. "You thought what?"

"I thought you were busy," Starsky finished.

"Is that why you left this without a word? You thought I was ‘busy'?"

Starsky looked away guiltily. "I didn't mean to intrude. I didn't know he was there." He frowned at Hutch. "What're you doing here, anyway?"

He placed the plant on the table. "I wanted to thank you for the peace plant. And I have a present for you, too," Hutch replied mysteriously. He sat on the couch and pulled the box from his pocket, setting it on the table invitingly.

The little gift piqued Starsky's curiosity, and mollified his mood a little. "You got me a present?" He sat down beside Hutch and eyed the colorful little box as Hutch took off his jacket.

Picking up the box, Hutch handed it to his friend. "Open it."

With a boyish grin, Starsky opened the box. A puzzled look crossed his face. "It's empty," he declared, turning it upside down and wiggling it.

"Look again," Hutch instructed, nodding encouragingly. "There's something...special...in there. Something nice. Something that could last a lifetime."

The puzzled look dropped from Starsky's face. His expression softened, as their eyes met. The gesture touched him deeply. He glanced again into the empty box, then back at Hutch. "You're giving me a box of sex?"

Hutch grinned. "I wanted to give you something you really like."

Starsky looked into the box again and shook it gently. "It's kinda small..."

"It'll get bigger," Hutch chuckled.

Starsky looked up with laughing eyes.

Hutch added, "Oh, and it's refillable."

Starsky looked at the open box in his hands and suddenly felt his pain return. "It's beautiful. I love it," he whispered. Then he placed the lid back on the box, and put it in Hutch's hand, folding the man's fingers around the box. "But I can't accept this," he said in a wounded voice. "I thought I wanted this, but it isn't right." Pushing himself up from the couch, he stepped away from Hutch, unable to look at him.

"Second thoughts?" Hutch spoke to his back.

There was a worried hint to Hutch's tone, and Starsky turned back to see his face. The worry was in Hutch's eyes as well. "Not about how I feel," Starsky assured him. "I do love you. I do want you. But I don't wanna be the guy you fuck around with behind Trevor's back."

"Starsky, what you said last night--"

"I know what I said last night!" he interrupted angrily. "And I meant it. Then. But that was before I saw you kissing him. It really hit me, hard. Hurt like hell. I know I don't have the right to feel hurt, but I can't help it. I can't be ‘the other guy', Hutch. I'm sorry."

Hutch was up and off the couch in an instant, clutching Starsky's arms. "Starsky," he said calmly, "listen to me. What you said last night just blew me away. I was in shock, and at a loss for words. You left before I could tell you I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the things I said last night that hurt you. I'm sorry for never admitting to anyone, not even to myself, that I'm in love with you. I'm sorry for shoving my feelings down so deep in order to preserve our friendship that it blinded me to how you feel." He paused, his voice gentling. "And I'm sorry for not making it clear that I don't want you to be ‘the other guy.' I want you to be the _only_ guy. I love you."

Starsky stepped back. Hutch's hands slid down his arms, but snatched his hands and held on tight. Confused, Starsky asked, "The _only_ guy? What are you saying, Hutch?"

"I'm saying that the kiss you saw, was me kissing Trevor _goodbye_. I broke off our relationship. We'll still be friends, but we'll never be lovers again." Hutch stroked the back of Starsky's hands with his thumbs. "I wouldn't come to you, offering my heart, if I wasn't free."

"Offering your...,"Starsky's voice trailed off, his heart pounding in his chest. "You broke it off _with Trevor_?" he exclaimed, his eyes widening at the importance of Hutch's actions. "For _me_?"

"For you," Hutch replied, squeezing his hands again. "For us."

Wanting to believe, but not quite able, Starsky stammered, "But _you love him!"_

Hutch pulled Starsky's hand to his lips and kissed his hand. He smiled adoringly. "I love you more."

His heart soaring, Starsky reached out and laid a tentative hand over Hutch's heart, suddenly feeling rather shy about touching him. Hutch covered the hand with his own, watching him with a tender expression. "Hutch, I can't believe you'd do this for me. I'd never have asked you to..."

"I know," Hutch whispered.

"You gonna regret this?" Starsky wondered aloud. "Trevor's a hell of a guy. You gonna regret choosing me over him?"

Starsky felt Hutch's arm slip around him, pulling him closer, never letting go of the hand upon his heart. "There was no choice," Hutch said huskily. "There's only you."

The warmth of Hutch's body, the scent of his spicy aftershave, the feel of his arm around him as tight as a steel band, all made Starsky weak and intoxicated. He knew Hutch was about to kiss him, and it both frightened and exhilarated him. Lifting his head, his lips and nose lightly grazed against Hutch's jaw, and the sensation sent a wave of heat straight down to his toes. His breath was shaky by the time he locked eyes on Hutch, who appeared to be watching him with great care.

"I know I'm new to this," Starsky reasoned, "but don't ya usually kiss a guy when you tell him you threw everything away, just for him?"

Hutch chuckled, pulling Starsky in even tighter, and Starsky felt the vibration of his laugh ripple through his own body, loving the sensation.

"I didn't throw everything away," Hutch smiled. "I'm reaching _for_ everything. Right here with you."

Finally Hutch pressed his lips to Starsky's, tenderly. Starsky's eyes closed as he thrilled at the new sensation. He hadn't expected such a soft kiss, but the contrast of Hutch's powerful arms compared to the tender caress of his warm lips, were just so _Hutch_ , so strong and gentle. When Hutch deepened the kiss and danced his tongue against Starsky's, Starsky groaned his approval. He wrapped his arms around his partner, returning Hutch's kiss with ardor.

Caressing Hutch's jaw with feather light fingertips, Starsky couldn't resist grazing his lips and tongue against Hutch's five o'clock shadow. The course texture was fascinating to taste and feel, so new and inviting. He felt Hutch's hold on him loosen, and he looked up expectantly.

"What about you, Starsk?" Hutch traced his lower lip with his finger. "You going to have any regrets?"

"What regrets? You mean women?" Starsky grinned, "When's the last time you saw me with a woman?" He hadn't been on a date in ages.

Hutch furrowed his brow. "I can't remember! It's been a long time. Why is that?"

Shrugging, Starsky replied, "I don't know. Just haven't found anyone that interested me. The only person I can honestly say I was interested in, was you."

Stroking Starsky's hand with his thumb, Hutch spoke quietly. "Starsky, if this doesn't work for you, just tell me. I'll understand."

"I know you would, Hutch. But it's not gonna be like that. This feels right, like I belong, like comin' home."

Suddenly, Starsky felt himself engulfed in a crushing hug. It was as if Hutch's whole body was embracing him, squeezing the breath right out of him. Starsky smiled, guessing he must have just said something Hutch needed to hear at this moment.

Hutch's loosened his squashing hug and his hands began to run heated paths up and down Starsky's back. Starsky kept his own hands busy, one sliding up into the silky strands of Hutch's hair, the other massaging slow and tiny little circles around the outer edge of Hutch's ear. Eventually he retraced the course his massaging fingers had taken with the tip of his tongue, darting into the recesses, his hot breath playing havoc with the feel of the wetness. Playfully, he nibbled at Hutch's earlobe, catching the tempting flesh in a light pinch of teeth. He watched the wave of goosebumps cascade across Hutch's skin, disappearing under the fabric of his shirt. The unwelcome visual barrier frustrated him and he deemed that shirt had to go.

Starsky nodded in the direction of his little box, left forgotten on the coffee table, and asked Hutch, "Okay if I unwrap my present now?" Without bothering to wait for a reply, he began to unbutton Hutch's shirt.

When Hutch tried to reciprocate by helping Starsky remove his shirt, Starsky unintentionally tensed. It was apparently not missed by Hutch, who pulled away from his kissing of Starsky's neck to look questioningly to his partner.

Starsky didn't meet his gaze, hoping if he ignored the unspoken inquiry that Hutch would be quickly distracted. Instead, he pushed Hutch's shirt off his shoulders, then dragged his palms slowly down Hutch's chest, over his nipples, down toward his waistband.

But his distraction didn't work, and Hutch grabbed Starsky's hands and gave him a strict scrutiny. "Turn around," he ordered quietly.

About to voice an objection, Starsky closed his mouth when he saw the determined look on Hutch's face. He did as he was told and turned his back to Hutch. "Close your eyes," was whispered in his ear. Again, Starsky obliged.

Hutch ran his hands soothingly over Starsky's back. Up his spine, out toward his shoulders, down the sides and around again. The movement was relaxing, and Starsky soon mellowed to the touch. Hutch then began to rub up Starsky's neck and up into the edge of his hairline. Soon Starsky was starting to feel like jello, humming at the tranquilizing rubdown. His open shirt was pushed down past his shoulders, and the massage continued lower, the thumbs pushing deeper circles into his flesh. Starsky felt the shirt slip down his arms to the floor, marveling at the fact his knees hadn't buckled at the same time, and sent him down to puddle at Hutch's feet beside the shirt.

Not hesitating in his circular movements, Hutch began to kiss down the back of Starsky's neck, and all along his upper back. Starsky left his eyes closed, and the sensations seemed all the more intense. The kisses alone could have brought him to full arousal.

Hutch's hands stilled, then slipped around him, one to coast through the wispy curls across Starsky's chest and the other to gently tug at the curls low on his abdomen. The kisses continued against his back, and Starsky simply enjoyed the pleasing sensations.

Finally it dawned on him that Hutch was kissing his scars, worshipping the part of him that he was most insecure about, arousing him in spite of his self-consciousness. Starsky turned within the ring of Hutch's arms, throwing himself into a kiss that just couldn't get deep enough. He broke free long enough to ask, "How do you do that? How do you make me forget? I'm always avoiding attention to my scars, and you sit there loving ‘em without me even realizing what the hell you're doin'!" The arrogant smile on Hutch's lips just made him want to kiss him all the more.

Hutch grabbed his belt loops and crushed Starsky's body into his hips, his smile gone. "Don't you know how irresistible you are?" he asked seriously. "So hot, so tempting." He lifted Starsky's chin and delivered a kiss that made him rock hard, and hinted at delights yet to be delivered. Starsky moaned from someplace deep within.

"Starsky, you're absolutely dazzling," Hutch stated, his eyes twinkling. "Sexy as hell."

Starsky grinned and shook his head. "Bet you say that to all the boys." He waggled his eyebrows.

Hutch murmured into his ear, "Tell me what you want, Starsky. You said when you thought of us together it excited you. How did you see us? You want to fuck me, Starsk? You want me to suck you? How do you want it, babe?"

"Keep talking like that, partner, and I'm gonna get off on the words alone," Starsky warned. "It's been a long time, Hutch. I'm not gonna last long here." Tugging on his arm, he pulled Hutch toward the bedroom.

Once in his room, Starsky kissed Hutch again. "I want you naked," Starsky said insistently. "Now." Grasping Hutch's belt, he had the buckle undone and the zipper lowered when he felt Hutch's hand lightly under his chin.

"Starsky, we can go slow here. Take our time. I don't want you feeling pressured or rushed. If you're not comfortable with anything, any time, we stop."

He looked so concerned, so apprehensive, that Starsky had to smile. "Hutch, I've never had the chance to really look at you, really touch you, not like this. Please, don't stop me now." Pushing at Hutch's jeans and briefs, they finally slid to the floor, leaving Hutch standing completely naked before him. Starsky was not shy in his appreciation of Hutch's body. His hands skimmed over the smooth skin as if he'd never seen a body quite so tantalizing. "Damn, Hutch," Starsky whispered. "You're incredible." Sliding his hands to Hutch's backside, he lightly kneaded and petted Hutch's ass, before sinking to one knee before him.

Hutch was watching him intently, and Starsky knew it. He nuzzled his cheek against the head of Hutch's penis, certain the shadow of whiskers were bound to elicit a response, and grinned when Hutch took in a sharp breath. The glans was glistening with Hutch's essence, so temptingly close. Starsky parted his lips and ran his lower lip against the ridge of the head, gazing up to be sure Hutch was watching. With Hutch's rapt attention, Starsky kept his eyes locked on his partner as he smiled wickedly and slowly snaked his tongue out and circled the slick head.

"Oh God," Hutch gasped.

Not giving him a chance to anticipate the move, Starsky sucked him into his mouth and took him right down to the hilt in one swift plunge. Hutch cried out a primal, animalistic sound that brought a devilish grin to Starsky's lips.

Hutch buried his fingers in Starsky's curls and gave a throaty chuckle. "I thought you were new to this."

Releasing the steely shaft, Starsky rose to his feet and slipped his arms around Hutch. "You asked me how I want it. I want you to fuck me, Hutch. I want you inside'a me."

So many emotions flickered across Hutch's face that Starsky wasn't sure how he'd respond.

"Starsk, I'd rather bottom for you, if that's okay. I...I don't want to hurt you. I prefer to bottom."

In studying his eyes, Starsky knew Hutch wanted it. He guessed that he and Trevor had not had a good experience with Hutch on top, but there was definite desire in Hutch's eyes when he thought about the position. "Does it hurt _you_ to bottom?" he asked.

"No, no, not at all," Hutch assured him.

"Okay, then _I'll_ bottom, and if it hurts we'll stop." Starsky grabbed his own belt and finished undressing himself. Opening a drawer in his nightstand, he pulled out a bottle of massaging oil. "Will this work?" He handed the bottle to Hutch.

Hutch poured a small amount into the palm of his hand and tested it against his fingers. "Yeah, this is pretty good." His voice sounded surprised.

Starsky snatched the bottle from his hands. "Gimme that a sec." He slipped into the bathroom and returned a moment later with a glass of hot water. He put the glass on the nightstand and slipped the bottle into it.

"What are you doing, Starsk?" Hutch asked.

"Never mind, it's not important," Starsky replied evasively. "Come here, you sexy thing." He grabbed Hutch's hand and pulled him into his arms, kissing him. Their erections collided, sending pleasing shock waves through his body. "Oh man," he murmured against Hutch's mouth just before pulling Hutch's hips tighter against his own.

Hutch pushed him onto the bed and began exploring his whole body with his hands. His leg was draped over Starsky's, and Starsky was amazed at the powerful feel of his athletic body pressed against his. There was something very exciting about having a lover who was his equal, physically as well as intellectually, to share his bed. Even the feel of Hutch's long, calloused fingers added a roughness to his touch that turned Starsky on. When Hutch cradled Starsky's testicles, then gave a gentle tug, stroking lightly across their surface, he cried out, "Jesus!"

As Hutch tried to reach for the oil, Starsky stopped him. "Lemme get that." He flipped off the cap, then ordered Hutch, "Lay down. All the way. On your back." When he had the man just where he wanted him, Starsky laid his right hand protectively over Hutch's erection, with his fingers draped over his sac, then slowly poured some of the oil over the top of his own hand. The heated oil cascaded over his fingers, and dripped onto Hutch's testicles in a light waterfall of very warm droplets. Hutch arched and grabbed at the sheets, moaning in delight. Starsky grinned, then climbed between his legs and gently cupped his hands around Hutch's balls, capturing the dripping oil and coating it over his sac and up and over his hard shaft.

"Starsky, yesssssss!"

Starsky made sure Hutch was coated well, using more warm oil as needed, enjoying watching Hutch so excited by his touch.

Hutch pulled the bottle away from him and pushed Starsky down on the bed. He poured a generous amount of the heated oil into his palms then grabbed Starsky firmly at the base of his erection with his right hand, pulling slowly outward toward the tip, placing his left hand at the base just before his right hand came off the tip, keeping up a continuous pulling sensation, and kept repeating the motions. Starsky lost the ability for words.

They were both breathing hard when Hutch moved up Starsky's body and began to lavish his attentions on Starsky's nipples, his teeth and tongue delivering jolts of pleasure through his body as Hutch's hand massaged a spot down behind his balls. It was creating a unique tingling sensation that seemed to reverberate through the area between his balls and his ass. The indirect stimulation was creating such a need and a hunger that Starsky could scarcely stand it.

"Please, Hutch, please!" He wasn't even sure what he was pleading for anymore, but the urgency had become so great that he knew nothing more than he wanted this man, and he wanted him now.

"Slow, babe, be patient," Hutch coaxed. His hand slipped lower, massaging in little circles until it settled over Starsky's opening.

The sensation had changed for Starsky, feeling more direct and stronger. His legs opened wider, giving easier access. "Oh yeah...feels good." Hutch was applying slight pressure, still circling. He continued for a time before pushing just a little firmer, slipping the tip of his finger inside. Starsky groaned from the pleasure. That finger was moving, rotating, gliding, going deeper at such a slow pace it was almost torturous. He cried out again to Hutch who again requested patience, but also allowed a second finger to join the first. Hutch was continuously kissing him, running his roughened fingertips across his inner thighs, keeping his stimulating touches in a constant state of change. Starsky was completely overwhelmed.

When Hutch tried to position himself to finally enter him, Starsky stopped him. "Not this way," he pleaded. Flipping over, he pulled himself up to his hands and knees. Hutch curled around him, embracing him, laying his head upon Starsky's back. After a single kiss to his back, Hutch leaned close to his ear. "Elbows, Starsk. You'll get better leverage." He roamed his hands all over Starsky's back, then massaged the cheeks of Starsky's ass. Leaning close again, he murmured, "You have the most perfect ass I have ever seen. Damn, you're gorgeous." In response, Starsky pushed his ass back into Hutch's groin, earning a moan for his move. Starsky closed his eyes when he felt Hutch position himself to enter.

Hutch entered slowly, tenderly, with gentle little pumping gestures. It was different than the explosive painful thrust that Starsky anticipated. There was discomfort, but not pain, and a noticeable lovingness to it all. It seemed to be an endless journey until Hutch was fully seated, completely enveloped inside of Starsky.

When he realized that Hutch was all of the way inside him, Starsky choked on his emotion. Hutch's arms immediately embraced him.

"Are you all right?"

"Aw, Hutch," he cried. "You're in me. Inside me. In my heart. All around me." Starsky buried his face in the crook of his arm. A small gasping sob escaped him.

"Starsk, are you in pain?" Hutch's voice sounded desperate.

"No. Don't hold back, babe. I want it. I want it all."

Starsky's encouragement seemed to be all Hutch needed, for he began to move in earnest. When the stimulation directly hit on his prostate, Starsky nearly laughed in surprise, not expecting this to feel so pleasurable. "It's good, babe. So good!" He felt Hutch reach around and begin to stroke his shaft while the thrusts hit on that sweet spot deep within him. The strokes sent him completely over the edge, crying Hutch's name.

He felt Hutch stiffen at the call of his name and knew Hutch had come just after he did. There was a flood of warmth inside him, but he couldn't discern if it was from Hutch's seed, or from the flush of their bodies, now melded together. Hutch called out, "I love you," just before crumpling onto Starsky's back.

"Stay with me here," Starsky pleaded. His arms and legs were shaking, so he curled hi shoulder under, and with Hutch's help, they rolled onto their sides, still joined. Hutch was wrapped completely around him, nuzzling into the back of his neck, leaving little kisses scattered over his neck and shoulder. Starsky pulled Hutch's arm more snuggly around his chest as he exclaimed, "God, I love you."

They spooned for a while before Hutch apologetically whispered, "I'm gonna have to pull out. I have to know if you're okay, if I hurt you." As soon as he withdrew, Starsky turned around and snuggled back into his chest.

"I'm not hurt," he insisted. "Just kinda sore. A good kinda sore."

Hutch kissed him on top of the head. "That was amazing, Starsk. It was wild to be on top and know what it all felt like for you."

Starsky pulled back and looked up at him. "You make it sound like you never did that before!"

"I haven't," Hutch confessed. "I tried, a couple of times, but I couldn't work it out. Couldn't make it so it wasn't painful. I never got very far before giving up."

Starsky gave him a long sleepy kiss. "You never hurt me. Honest. You made it good."

Hutch pulled him against his chest and embraced him tightly. "We fit together well," he stated. Starsky smiled.

Starsky's stomach gave a loud rumble, announcing to them both that he was hungry. Hutch laughed and patted Starsky's stomach. "Work up an appetite, did you?" he razzed him.

"Hell yes. Didn't you? And I'm dying of thirst." Smiling, Starsky climbed out of bed and walked naked out to the kitchen. He pulled out a pitcher of iced tea and poured them each a tall glass. As he finished pouring, he felt Hutch's arms snake around him from behind.

"Did I ever tell you how hot you look in that outfit?" Hutch asked.

Starsky glanced down at his naked body and absently waved his hand. "This old thing? Had it for years."

Hutch grabbed the ice tea Starsky poured for him and walked out to the living room. Starsky followed behind him, enjoying the view. "I'm gonna hafta send you to the showers, babe," he grinned. "You are pretty much covered in oil."

Hutch gave him a glowing smile. "You're not gonna send me alone, are you?"

"Not on your life." Starsky knelt down on the floor beside the coffee table and picked up his little box. He looked inside it, then glanced to Hutch, wiggling the box at him. "You know, I think this just may be the best present you ever gave me."

Kneeling beside him, Hutch took the box from his hand and placed the lid on top. "Oh yeah? You like that huh?"

Starsky grinned at him. "Yeah, I think I'm gonna get a lot of use outta this."

 

_The End_

 


End file.
